My dog didn't die today.
She's been a little tired for a week or so, and putting on a bit of size
round her tummy, but I assumed it was simply that she was old and a bit
arthritic.
But when she had to take a rest at the bottom of out two, shallow back steps
before coming back inside yesterday morning, I felt I probably should take her
to see the vet. There was no sense of urgency, no panic. Just...
It'd probably be a good idea.
So I did.
The vet looked at her. She felt her tummy. She looked into her mouth and her
eyes.
She asked if we had any rat poison around.
Then she said "It's probably a tumour... she'll need to stay with us
and have an x-ray and some blood tests"
At 5 o'clock she called me and said my dog would need to have surgery. That
she had a tumour growing on her spleen. That it was probably hemangiosarcoma
That she only had a 50/50 chance of coming out of it alive.
But she did.
Even though she is likely to only live less than one more year, I am glad
she's alive now, and that her last conscious time was not being locked in a cage
with no food and no water without the people around who love her and are meant
to make her happy.
I'm glad my dog isn't dead.
I hope she can die at home.
Later.
Much later.