I have comfort in the fact that the 3 days leading up to Buddy’s death, he would cry if I put him down. He needed to be on or beside me at all times, or he cried. I have comfort in the fact that my Buddy who wouldn’t cuddle for the life of him, wanted to spend his last few days on earth hugging me.
I love you.
10am: I take Buddy outside to pee – he doesn’t walk so I have to carry him
1030am: I call Mark to let him know something isn’t right.
1032am: Make an appointment for Buddy at the vet for 430pm.
1045am-NOON: Buddy had to be on my lap. He cried every time I put him down which was highly unlike him.
12:10: Put Buddy on the bed and called Mark to let him know how weird Buddy was being. Mark tried to convince me it was just the doggy flu and not to worry.
12:30: Buddy seized off of the bed – continues for the next 10 minutes
12:32: I call my vet, Mark, Daddy and Mom freaking out in tears – “Buddy is seizing!! He is going to die!!”
12:40: Come back in the room to hold Buddy and comfort him.
1:00: Mark finally arrives as he had to leave work, to take me and Buddy to the vet.
2:00 Buddy is fine,on medication back home as the vet informed us that the chances of him having another seizure is extremely rare. Vet believed this was a fluke.
2:05: we all lay down for a big nap. Buddy lays on top of me and places his head to my cheek and gives me a kiss. We fall asleep like this.
2:30: Mark nudges me to open my eyes and points to Buddy who was beginning to seizure and now foaming all over my arm where I was holding him.
2:30-6:00: Buddy began to seize and never came out of it. We made the hard decision to put Buddy down. We said our last goodbyes.
Choosing to “end Buddy’s life” was just that, I felt like I was killing him. After the vet speaking with me about spending a couple thousand dollars for tests, I could see the doubt in her eyes and the motivation to end his suffering quickly took over.
I look at the vet with tears filling my eyes and say, “Be honest, what is the chance he will survive even if I pay for all these tests?”
“Well,” she said, “I have never had a dog who still seized after the medication. Buddy is not responding at all, and since he has been in a seizure non-stop for several hours, if he does come out, he will have brain damage.”
Tears start pouring down my face. I knew what this meant. Either Buddy was going to die during this everlasting seizure or he was going to come out of it brain dead, and continue to have seizures for his life. This isn’t something I wanted for my crazy, silly, badass pug.
“No questions asked, if he won’t be able to live normally, put him down, I don’t want to make him live like a vegetable.” I answered.
Those words came out of my mouth feeling like a million pounds.
I look at Mark and through our tears I ask, “is this the right decision?”
Mark answers, “it’d be selfish to keep him living like this.”
We then head into the room where Buddy is hooked up to all these things that were pumping medication into him every 10 minutes to help calm the seizure since he would not come out of it.
For one last time, I hold his twitching little face in my hands and give him a kiss goodbye.
Mark adds, “We’ll tell Diva you said bye. We love you.”