I don't come on often, but thought I should let those who've been around since I was a regular know that Daisy has passed.
We noticed last week she was losing weight, and by the end of the week she was noticeably skinnier. I decided I would take her to the vet on Monday, but when I let her back in Friday night after going to the washroom, I realized how she was so much thinner than just the day before. Got up and called the vet on Saturday, and the tech told me that they check her BP by pressing her gums, and it should go back to pink almost right away. She said it took 2 seconds. Then I'm thinking, "This won't be cheap." Then the vet came in and checked her out without saying a word. I'm thinking, "Dude, this is rather unnerving." As he recommends a blood test, I start realizing that this is not good. I sat on the floor with Daisy waiting for the results, and he comes back and says her liver is right off the chart (the test maxes out at 2500...it's supposed to be 1-hundred something). I look at him, and he's staring at me, and then it hits me. I finally spit out, "I guess we need to...we, uh...we need to have her put to sleep." I don't know what came first, his confirmation, or my flood of tears. I ask if she's in pain, and he says yes. I then choke out that I have to let my family say good bye. I take Daisy home, and just as I pull in the driveway, Cheryl calls and says, "Hey, where are you?" I lose it. I pull myself together, and take Daisy in. She lays down, and Maddy goes, "Daddy, are you crying?" I then proceed to break their hearts.
When I take Daisy back a half hour later, she can barely keep up with me crossing the parking lot. I sat on the floor holding her head as she left. It's still breaking my heart. I know you can never be ready, I just thought I'd have more time to brace myself. I'd always said, when the tail stops wagging, it's time. And it hadn't wagged for a week.
She was the most loving dog I have ever had or been around (she's number 5) and I feel so unworthy of her. And I didn't realize it until this week, but when I take a break and go upstairs, I always look in the corner for her. I've caught myself starting to say, "What's up, pup?" or "DAAAaaaaisy!", then look and say, "Oh yea".
So, rest in peace, Pupcake. You were a shining example of the breed, and a well-loved family member. Between you and the girls, I don't know who loved who more. There'll always be an empty spot in my heart. You were awesome.
Hagar:"What kind of dog is that?"
Man with dog:"He's a nice dog!"
Hagar:"You know, at the end of the day, that's always the best kind."