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reynardoI was reminded by a post from a friend that I never told my good readers the latest major thing to happen in the household. I put it on Twitter and Facebutt, but not here.
After living for a few months in a one-dog household, Basil got a cold. He was on antibiotics, but didn't quite seem up to scratch, so we took him to the vet on May 13th (see, it *has* been ages, and I completely forgot to tell you LJ people).
What seemed like just a cold and a very good weight loss program turned out to be Lymphoma. Advanced. Terminal. Expected survival anything from 3 weeks to 6 months. Fuck.
While there *was* a chemotherapy option, it would have been very expensive, very time-expensive (I'm in my last year of my teaching degree and it would have cost me an entire year's delay), traumatised him immensely, and given him probably another 8 months.
The secondary option was steroids to drop the tumour sizes, and lots of bacon. Although, strangely, the "bacon" part was scrawled very roughly on the bottom of the vet's bill, in an unknownpaw hand, looking like it had been done with a claw dipped in ink...
Anyway, we gave him much love and bacon and the steroids, and a minor painkiller when he started to act uncomfortable. The only real signs were that after a few weeks, he started losing weight again, and his neck was getting fatter as the tumours grew. Then, after 3 months, very suddenly one day, the thickening neck suddenly blew out, and he went from "fine" to "coughing" to "in distress". And then he was gone.
Here he is on his last day. You can see how big that lump on the left side of his neck is.
Basically, he'd been fine at 6am - not hugely bouncy as he usually was for breakfast, but certainly eager.
By 10am his collar was choking him. I took it off, which helped a bit, but I could see a bulge on the side of his neck.
By 2pm, he was wheezing. I made the vet's appointment, let![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
da_norvegicus and lederhosen know, and just gave him cuddles. The appointment was for 5:15, but by 4 Basil was having serious trouble, and we just took him straight down. And we held him, and hugged him, and told him what a brave, loyal doggie he was.
And while we are a very sad household here, we do not feel guilty. It would have been rotten for him to go through Chemo. It would have been rotten for us. And it would have only given him another 5 months or so. Instead, he had love and bacon and hugs and bacon, and was allowed to sleep on the bed, and given many more hugs, until the end. And the end was so fast that we know he wasn't suffering for very long at all. His last look at me was "Can you fix this, please?"
It's so weird now. I cut up chicken - and there's no-one to give the scraps to. We open the front door, and we don't need to block him from running out and around the car. With Cuton gone as well, there's no need for the leashes hanging from the rack near the front door...lederhosen was away for a few days, and I realised there was no brave little furry creature to keep me safe from stray lioplurodons. And we can vacuum the fluff, and it doesn't come back... I've put all the equipment in a box in the garage, and we took the huge bags of Boring Dry Food down to lederhosen's brother, who has dogs of his own.
We might get some more dogs after our trip away next year. But just for the moment, the house seems strangely quiet.
After living for a few months in a one-dog household, Basil got a cold. He was on antibiotics, but didn't quite seem up to scratch, so we took him to the vet on May 13th (see, it *has* been ages, and I completely forgot to tell you LJ people).
What seemed like just a cold and a very good weight loss program turned out to be Lymphoma. Advanced. Terminal. Expected survival anything from 3 weeks to 6 months. Fuck. While there *was* a chemotherapy option, it would have been very expensive, very time-expensive (I'm in my last year of my teaching degree and it would have cost me an entire year's delay), traumatised him immensely, and given him probably another 8 months.
The secondary option was steroids to drop the tumour sizes, and lots of bacon. Although, strangely, the "bacon" part was scrawled very roughly on the bottom of the vet's bill, in an unknown
Anyway, we gave him much love and bacon and the steroids, and a minor painkiller when he started to act uncomfortable. The only real signs were that after a few weeks, he started losing weight again, and his neck was getting fatter as the tumours grew. Then, after 3 months, very suddenly one day, the thickening neck suddenly blew out, and he went from "fine" to "coughing" to "in distress". And then he was gone.
Here he is on his last day. You can see how big that lump on the left side of his neck is. Basically, he'd been fine at 6am - not hugely bouncy as he usually was for breakfast, but certainly eager.
By 10am his collar was choking him. I took it off, which helped a bit, but I could see a bulge on the side of his neck.
By 2pm, he was wheezing. I made the vet's appointment, let
da_norvegicus and lederhosen know, and just gave him cuddles. The appointment was for 5:15, but by 4 Basil was having serious trouble, and we just took him straight down. And we held him, and hugged him, and told him what a brave, loyal doggie he was. And while we are a very sad household here, we do not feel guilty. It would have been rotten for him to go through Chemo. It would have been rotten for us. And it would have only given him another 5 months or so. Instead, he had love and bacon and hugs and bacon, and was allowed to sleep on the bed, and given many more hugs, until the end. And the end was so fast that we know he wasn't suffering for very long at all. His last look at me was "Can you fix this, please?"
It's so weird now. I cut up chicken - and there's no-one to give the scraps to. We open the front door, and we don't need to block him from running out and around the car. With Cuton gone as well, there's no need for the leashes hanging from the rack near the front door...
lederhosen was away for a few days, and I realised there was no brave little furry creature to keep me safe from stray lioplurodons. And we can vacuum the fluff, and it doesn't come back... I've put all the equipment in a box in the garage, and we took the huge bags of Boring Dry Food down to lederhosen's brother, who has dogs of his own. We might get some more dogs after our trip away next year. But just for the moment, the house seems strangely quiet.
