The End of a Journey
I haven't written in a while due to all the changes that have taken place recently. In November I started working for a local animal rescue, I took in a dog for an emergency foster situation due to a severe winter storm that had everyone stuck in their houses for a couple days, as well as a couple vet appointments mixed in for good measure. If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you may have seen the photos and updates on my foster dog, Molly.
This post though is not about any of that. It's about the struggles of saying good bye to a beloved furry family member.
When Tinker was diagnosed with an endocrine immune disorder I knew that her medical issues would end in her being the first of my canine crew to leave me. Every spring she would have issues with the pollen in the air, neighboring hay fields being cut, all turning into struggles with her sinuses and lungs. Her veterinary team and I became pretty good at being able to hold things off and keep her immune system boosted, but inevitably she would need antibiotics and an increase in steroids for a couple weeks to get her back on track.
With each episode her lungs would become a little more damaged, but she was strong and a trooper. More than once one of the vets would state that they were impressed with her energy level, high spirits and ability to act as though she were fine when diagnostics clearly showed she was not. In March she got hit pretty hard with a respiratory infection. I thought she had hit her breaking point and was trying to prepare myself for the heartbreaking discussion about her comfort level and how much longer we had together in this fight. I put her up on the exam table and as usual she got comfortable.
The clinic was not a scary place for her, it was filled with people that she knew, loved and knew cared about her too - she never had a reason to be afraid of the vet. He walked in, briefly looked at her and said "I don't need to state the obvious, she doesn't look good. She has been through a lot, but her eyes don't tell me she is done. Her eyes tell me she is indeed uncomfortable, but she isn't done fighting. She is almost 11 years old. That's really good for a puppy mill dog from a pet store. Frankly, she is one of a small group of dogs left from that pet store. Most of the survivors are not healthy. You have done very well keeping her as healthy and stable as you have. If this is the end for her, be proud that you guys made it this far, nobody else did. I'm going to send you home with antibiotics and if she doesn't start to improve in a couple days then we should talk again. With her track record, I don't expect to talk to you." With that, he gave her a little head scratch and told her to hang in there a little bit longer.
The medication worked quickly and she was back to her usual self in just a couple days. We were all relieved, happy and moved on with our daily lives as normal. Only a couple short months later it hit again, but fast and hard. I knew the wait time would be too long to get her in for a vet appointment so I just called in and asked if my parents could pick up another round of antibiotics to get her going and then follow up with an appointment at the next available slot. They agreed that was the best route so she went to work with me so I could keep an eye on her, give her the medication she needed. She had not been to my new office so she was lost and confused as to where she was.
It was a long day, but she did alright. That night she still was quiet, her pep was not coming back as quickly as it did the last time. She was only comfortable when she was in a her crate, so I slept in the chair next to her and woke up with every little sound. Morning came and so did the morning routine. Jack slept out in the family room with me and Tinker, Duncan was in his crate in my room. Shortly after returning inside from our morning potty break Tinker just wouldn't move at all, she stood still on the laundry room floor, looking down. I sat on the floor in front of her only to have her take one step forward to me, then collapse to the floor. I quickly picked her up and hollered at my Mom and Dad. Tinker snuggled into me and then took her last breaths.
I was in shock, I really couldn't believe she was gone. I sat holding her for a few minutes, then wrapped her in her blanket. I had a radio interview for work at 8:00 AM. The last thing I wanted to do was go in and pretend to be all happy and cheery, so I decided not to. Each of the people in the radio station were animal lovers as well, so I got ready to go and start what would be a long day.
I walked in to the station and told the staff that I was there but was sorry for not being as peppy as usual since only a couple hours before Tinker had passed. They were incredibly understanding, we got things done and I headed off to the vet clinic. Jack is always very sensitive to the loss of his animal buddies, so I was glad he was there when Tink took her last breaths. It didn't change the fact that he became extremely upset when I had him wait in the car with my Mom while my Dad and I took Tink in to the clinic. He scratched at the back of the car and whined loudly in his upset at the situation - he had never done that before. He spent the day with me at the office as usual but instead of being quiet, he was grumpy and needy. I was quite grateful that it was Friday, I just had to get through the day.
Tinker died one week away from her 11th birthday, as hard as it has been to not hear her barking at everything, bossing the other dogs around, running around like it's the Indy 500, I can't help but be thankful for the many years I had with her.
I was a part of a Facebook group full of people fighting for just one more day with their beloved canines, all of them having various forms of the same medical condition as Tinker, we didn't have the hard, day in, day out struggles they did and for that I know we were blessed. One of the things that everyone in the group does is at the end of their beloved canine's journey, they share a condensed version of the rocky road they faced along with pictures. I waited a few days and then posted our journey. Some people remain a part of the group to provide advice to those still marching forward. I have done that many times myself, however, this time I could not. My sadness was mixed with anger and remaining part of the group would not have been helpful for them or healthy for me. The anger was not with the people in the group or that helped us along the way, but anger towards people who breed dogs without any thought to the long term health of the dog they are bringing into this world. Anger towards pet stores who think its okay to sell animals of any kind - every one of those animals comes from an animal that their only purpose is to produce as much "product" as possible before it dies. Anger about a horribly broken system that will sadly always be around as long as pets stores bring in living, breathing "product" to sell in their stores.
While I have recently purchased a few items from a pet store that sells small animals, exotics and fish, I still hold firm to the belief that until people stop purchasing animals from stores, animals will still be produced out of animal factories to be sold as products. If you want to add a animal to your household, check the paper, Craig's list, rescues, they are out there needing a place to go. Don't buy any animal from a store.
*Note: If you are reading this and have not read my previous post about how Tinker came to be part of the family, you should : )
