I had to take my ten year old hound dog, Suzy, to the vet today. In recent months, she has wasted away to nothing, despite a hearty appetite. Last week she vomited at least once a day, and lost even more weight--which prompted me to take her to the vet. It occurs to me that some tough decisions might need to be made soon; what if she has an illness that will cost thousands of dollars to treat? What if she has a terminal illness?
Not to be morbid, but the thought of her sad, trusting brown eyes as I let the vet know I agreed with the decision to do the humane thing levels me. Danny will have to be the one to take this action, if it comes to this.
She was my first baby and I admit, since Elise's birth, she has not received the same level of attention she used to. I just don't have time to walk her every day, and she can't come with Elise and I because she's too *much*. I realize this isn't fair. I hate it. I don't necessarily think I'm giving her the best life. She's comfortable and well fed, but her natural instincts are definitely thwarted.
We find out test results tomorrow, am really hoping the sound in her lungs was the echo of the music in her doggy heart...
The picture of her I'm posting really sums up the past 9 months for her: "I used to be the baby."
I hope the sound in her lungs wasn't the sound of a broken heart.
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