Last night (2/4/08) about 2100, my sister-in-law called, saying that V’s dog, Buddy, was having problems. They had called their friend, M, who is a vet in another town, and M told them to get Buddy to a vet right away. Buddy couldn’t urinate, and hadn’t been able to for a couple of days.
V ended up taking Buddy to the Emergency Animal Clinic, where an x-ray revealed the presence of a mass, about the size of a softball, around his small intestine. It was large enough in his body that his colon was moved to the other side from where it should have been.
Sister-in-law called me about 0215 and said that V was still there, and relayed the above information to me in an emotional garble. I offered to go up and be there for her, and Sis agreed. I told TMBWitW where I was headed, and I could feel my wife’s emotions welling up, even in the dark.
I arrived at the EAC and walked into the exam room where V was. She was crying, and I reached out and hugged her. She said I didn’t have to be there, and I told her I sure wasn’t leaving now. The doctor walked in right after me, and laid out the options. First, prednazone to reduce the swelling would allow Buddy to urinate, but the doctor said his quality of life would not be improved; Buddy was in pain – and this would only delay the inevitable for about a week. The second option was to euthanize him. V made the tough call – she didn’t want him to be in any more pain. This doesn’t mean the decision was easy – far from it.
Buddy was her puppy. He had grown from a gangly, separation-anxiety ball of terror into the most loving and devoted dog any person could wish for. Anytime we would visit, Buddy would try to climb in my lap and give me big, slobbery kisses. He loved to just sit next to you so you could casually scratch behind his ears, or just rub his head. He loved to play fetch. Buddy (a retriever mix) and his best bud Cooper (a dachshund) were also inseparable. When Buddy went to the groomers, Cooper would fret until he got back. When Buddy and V went for a walk, Cooper would watch for their return.
Buddy came into the room, and the vet tech laid down a sheet. V and I loved on Buddy as much as we could. V finally looked at me and asked, “How do you tell someone you’re ready to let him go?” I told her I didn’t know. I went to the door, and signaled to the tech that V was ready.
Buddy laid down, like the good boy he is, on V’s command. The vet inserted the needle, and Buddy gently slipped away. It was 0308. The world seemed a lot emptier all of a sudden.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….
(Author unknown)
Thank you for stopping by and God bless you all.
