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For some reason I keep forgetting about the City-Data Forum, even though I've found many of the threads here to be very interesting. This evening I was searching for something online and happened to run across a link to the forum, and so of course I wound up sauntering on back into the Pets section. And since I'm here, I thought I might share a post that I wrote in another forum this past summer, about my dog Kaya. I had posted about her briefly in this forum back in 2010 in a thread called, "What breed is your dog". There I described my beautiful Kaya, an Australian cattle dog mix, and wrote briefly about how we had initially crossed paths back in 1997. It seems now that since this post my life with her has come full circle; on Wednesday, July 11th, 2012, I lost my beloved girl. Always knowing that this day would inevitably arise, I still was not ready. She was my soulmate. My best friend. And I will miss her presence always. Below is a post I had written in another forum not long after Kaya's passing, and I thought I'd share it here. For anyone who has ever loved - and been loved by - a dog, I think the emotions that came out in my post will be familiar to you all.
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In early March of this year my older dog Kaya was diagnosed with a mast cell tumour on her hind leg. Because of her advanced age, as well as the location and size of the tumour, it was decided to treat her with palliative care. She was prescribed a few medications to help keep side effects of the tumour at bay, and she was also on (and off) Metacam and Tramadol for pain relief when necessary. For almost four months after her initial diagnosis she did really well, even surprising the vet at just how energetic and healthy she was, all things considered. Kaya had been off her pain meds and was enjoying life, trotting around off-leash, going for walks with Izzy (my young border collie pup) and myself, and her appetite was fantastic.
However, toward the beginning of July things began to slowly deteriorate. Kaya began showing signs of some discomfort; slowing down a bit, not going faster than a paced walk when we'd head outdoors every day...so I started her on pain medication again. And she perked up within a day, once again looking forward to outdoor strolls, and always eager to get back and enjoy dinner. I became hopeful that her bout of discomfort had been a temporary one, and that Kaya could again enjoy life. Unfortunately, this was to be short-lived. On Tuesday, July 10th, things changed. That evening when I came home from work I noticed while out on our walk that Kaya wasn't quite herself; her pace wasn't as quick as usual, and her heart didn't really seem to be in exploring all of the scents and sounds that normally held her attention. Kaya's bowel movements had changed as well, less than what would be considered normal for her. However, when we got back home she still displayed her hearty appetite and ate her dinner eagerly. Despite this, I quickly made a mental note to call her vet the next morning once I was at work and talk about having a reassessment done. The next day though, I never made it to work.
Wednesday morning we headed out for our usual early-morning walk, but Kaya was lagging quite a bit behind, her gait very sluggish. So Izzy and I slowed down and waited for her as she paced herself, and once we made it to the field where the dogs normally played, I was hoping she would perk up a bit. This time however, when I unclipped her leash, Kaya just stood there looking at me and wouldn't move. I knew then that something was seriously wrong, so I ran across the field to go and fetch Izzy, who'd run off to chase his ball. I turned at one point and saw Kaya trying to follow me, and I shouted at her to stay where she was, but still she tried to come, slowly making her way toward me as I grabbed Iz. It broke my heart seeing her do this, as I could see the effort it was taking her.
A few minutes later, once back at the house, I gave Kaya her breakfast. She refused to eat...something she had never once done before in her entire life. Then moments later, she collapsed on the floor and vomitted. I ran over and helped her up, she steadied herself, collapsed and vomitted again. Finally she was able to remain on her feet, but she was obviously in pain. In a panic I called my sister, and 15 minutes later we were rushing to the emergency vet.
Once there the vet did a thorough exam and assessment, and then told me what I already knew: Kaya's health had taken a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. She said, 'I know you may not be able to tell this, but your dog is in a huge amount of pain. From what you described of her actions this morning, I'd say she is being incredibly stoic...it sounds like she would have tried following you no matter how badly she was suffering. Unfortunately, the pain medication she's on is no longer working.' The vet then went on to discuss options with me. The first suggestion was to prescribe much stronger pain blockers; she said that many owners of pets with terminal illness tended to do this in the hope of giving them a bit more time. She told me that sometimes it worked...the pet would respond to the medication and for a while and activity level, while diminished, would sometimes return. However, she also stated that in many cases the pain blockers did just that - blocked the pain - but the pet would be inclined to live out their days sleeping, as the pain levels were so high that pain blockers had to be extremely strong. She also explained that many people chose this option to give themselves a bit more time, so they could have a chance to prepare themselves for the inevitable.
The second option was, of course, euthanasia. Dealing with a terminal illness, there would not be hope of a miracle cure, especially in an elderly pet; and with an illness as advanced as Kaya's appeared to be, this choice would not be a premature one.
In looking back now, I think I already knew from the moment I called my sister that the latter option was the route Kaya and I would be choosing. And yet despite knowing that this would indeed be the best choice for her, it was still a desperately hard one to make. Even through her pain Kaya was still displaying alertness and interest....just as we were leaving the field to head home, for example, a neighbour walked by with his dog. As soon as Kaya saw them her ears pricked up and she tried trotting over to see them. And at the vet's, even though she was rather lethargic, she kept looking at me and heading toward the door. She wanted to go home.
In the end I spent the next half an hour with her, talking to her, stroking her tired body, and just thanking her through my tears for everything that she brought to my life for the past 15 years. Then when the vet came in, I expressed my deep concern that Kaya not suffer during the procedure. Two years ago when my wonderful, big grey cat Fritz became ill and had to be euthanized, he did not pass quietly as the drug was administered, and I wanted to do everything I could to ensure that Kaya would not go through this. So the vet gave her as much sedative as she could, making sure that Kaya would be completely, soundly under before the actual lethal dose was given....and within moments her eyes softly closed and she slept as I stroked her head. When the final moment came, her passing was gentle, serene. I could not have asked for more for her.
I could probably write a book on the times that Kaya and I have had together...from the time she got caught red-pawed stealing a huge hamburger from the top of the kitchen stove (and when caught, *pfffed* it out of her mouth with such force that it literally sailed across the room); or twice in her life when she decided to go on private walkabouts after someone had accidentally left the back gate open, not long after we'd moved into my house; or the time she decided saunter unannounced into the next-door neighbour's house in my sister's neighbourhood (the screams of horror coming from the home owner made it rather easy to track her down); or the time she decided to attend a wake at the home of my next-door neighbour - an Asian family who were all terrified of dogs - I literally had to drag her away, silly grin plastered across her face and tail wagging, as the poor petrified mourners screamed and tried to scale their front porch railing; or the time she protected me fiercely when a rather suspicious-looking character happened to cross paths with us when we were on a walk deep in the woods one day, stopping and glaring at me as I stood there alone...suddenly Kaya erupted from the underbrush, growling and snarling with hackles raised at the man, and as soon as she did he turned tail and fled. This was the first - and only - time that Kaya ever growled at anyone.
She loved to steal food. She hogged the blankets when we slept. Whenever that ever-elusive squirrel appeared she went into overdrive, determined to stop him in his little rodentine tracks. She didn't care for water, but would wade up to her chest in the river on hot, sultry summer days. The first time I brought a rabbit home as a pet, she thought it was brunch on the go...but I only had to tell her once that this was a member of the family and she understood, even learning to tolerate a rabbit leapfrogging from her back if she was in his path. She was opinionated. Dominant. She didn't put up with anything if she deemed it not worthy. Yet she loved people and was the most gentle, permissive dog around children I've ever seen. She had a smile so huge it would warm even the coldest of hearts. She was the smartest canine I've had the pleasure to know. And she was beautiful.
There are so many things I could share about my girl, just as everyone who has ever lost a canine soulmate can confide...but suffice to say that for me, Kaya was my world. She came into my life unexpectedly, bursting onto the scene even for that first official walk as dog and her human, leaping into the air as she chased butterflies, so happy to be finally shed of the shelter and released to freedom. And fifteen all too brief but well-lived years later she left quietly, surrounded by peace and love. She took with her an enormous part of myself, but she also left a huge part of herself with me.
To have had her for just one more day...that's what I find myself wishing; but at the same time, I know it is a selfish wish. She left when she was ready. I can't say that I was, despite knowing the time was drawing near - I never would have been - but then, that's what it is always like with love. We never want to let go, to say goodbye. Yet as well all know too well, it must be done.
Until we meet again, Kaya.
You did good.
Last edited by bassetluv; 09-26-2012 at 07:12 PM..
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