Getting home late last Sunday from Kenya was exhausting. I just wanted to curl up with my boyfriend and dogs. I love getting the jumps and licks from my pooches each time I come home from a trip.
"They DO miss me!"
I always tell myself that. It's comforting. What's not comforting is noticing one of your dogs isn't feeling well. Her activity level and demeanour was the same, nothing different except she didn't eat all of her breakfast and then none of her dinner. The next day, she ate mouthfuls, barely. We called the vet and brought her in for a checkup. They did a blood test and various numbers, I can't even began to know where to start, were completely OFF. After being put on IV, overnight in our vets office and then transferred to two other emergency vets for 5 days. Izzy died.
She died by euthanasia after it was made clear she would not recover from acute renal kidney failure. We don't have any answers. We are still grieving. The vets did urine and blood testing and nothing conclusive came back. What we do know is that all the work in the world that was available, her numbers were not improving and her kidneys were at a state where they could not recover for any quality of life.
We brought her home on Monday afternoon and cuddled with her and told her how much we loved her. It was so sad. We could barely mutter words through our swollen throats. At one point I got up and grabbed a leash to take Lucy to get some errands and Izzy stood right up, out of her bed, as if she was saying
"Uhhh .. where do you think you are going without me???!!"
Fair enough. I looked at Ryan and he immediately grabbed her leash. How could one ever deny their dying dog one last walk. Walks that she loved.
We did half our regular circuit and then Ryan brought her back in the house. I took off and then came back. Ryan had to pick up some items for a motorcycle trip so I stayed with her and while he was gone she started to breath harder and harder. She was literally lifting her neck, holding it, mid air in order to breath. Ryan came home right away and we just hugged each other .. and her and cried.
It wasn't suppose to be like this! We had already arranged for an at-home euthanasia in the morning and now we couldn't even give her that. She was telling us she was uncomfortable and there was no chance we were going to let her suffer through the night. We called up Alta Vista Animal Hospital and spoke to the vet whom was treating her. Her shift was ending in 5 mins but she said to come and she would stay to see Izzy through.
Ryan sat in the back seat and we drove the 10 minutes down Hunt Club Road to the hospital. We brought her in, catheter still in place in her leg, and Dr. Tobin gave us a few minutes before giving her the sedative and then the euthanol. We told her how much we loved her and how happy we were that she became our foster and then .. our failed foster. We joked how she was the BEST dog out of all of our dogs. She was friendly with other dogs and people and she had the BEST qualities of a Husky-mix, she was non destructive and she didn't run away and could be off leash.
I scratched and kissed her forehead while her body stopped moving and she took her last breath. Ryan held her from behind and we just wept. Like now, as I type this .. we wept.
Izzy came to us via Sit With Me. She was pulled from a shelter when they were no longer able to figure out her skin/health issues. We were able to determine she was hypothyroid and fortunately after 5-6 weeks on Synthroid, her coat and energy did a 180. When that was under control she went up for adoption. That didn't last very long. Ryan had fallen in love and he wanted to adopt her. That was a year and half ago. I must admit .. we thought we would have another 5, 6, maybe 7 more years with her.
We may never know why Izzy wasn't able to push through the antibiotics and the treatment the vets gave her. It's possible, with her immune system, that she was never 100% and just couldn't push through. We tried, we tried so hard.
We love her so much and although I know that 'life goes on', as it did when our Shamar died 2 years ago, right now:
IT. JUST. HURTS. SO. BAD.