March was really not our month. The past few weeks have been quite hard on us. Our dog, Scoobie, got sick a couple of weeks ago. She couldn’t keep anything down. We had hoped it was just a puppy flu. However, we realized this was not just a dog being sick this was serious. Sadly, we had no idea how serious it would become.
We took her to the vet and she was active, sniffing outside on the short drive to the vet. We could tell she didn’t feel good, but she was still active. The vet knew right away what was wrong with her by looking at her eyes. We didn’t realize that the whites of her eyes were yellow, also the inside of her ears. They did a liver test and Mr. Bernie ran it to the people hospital. It turned out that she had hepatitis. She didn’t have any friends to share needles with, so we are not sure how that happened. The vet didn’t know either. They gave her some shots and sent her home with some meds. Milk Thistle, Steroids and an Anti-biotic. The shots seemed to work quickly as she gained back her apatite. Yea!!
For a week, we checked her eyes and ears faithfully. Telling each other she is getting better. She played with Luke, her cat. She would go for a walk with Mr. Bernie. She laid by me as usual. All was right in our world. The meds were working and she was going to pull out of this. It would just be a scary bump in the road for our whole family.
Last Sunday she started to get lethargic. She started throwing up her food again. We started to fret over her. Lots of extra love and attention. One Monday, when she was outside doing her business, she had some red discharge come out of her bottom. I burst into tears. I knew this was the beginning of the end for her. I rushed in the house and told Mr. Bernie, he started to get upset as well. We called the vet and told them we needed to get her in this morning! She was cold and oh so listless. All we could do was hug her and tell her that we loved her. I think we knew that we weren’t going to be bringing our baby home with us.
The drive to the vet made me cry even harder. She just laid in the backseat. She NEVER did that. She didn’t even move. When Mr. Bernie went in the vet to make sure they were ready for her, she didn’t even whimper. Normally, when Mr. Bernie left her in the car she would go crazy at her man leaving her. I opened the back door and just kept petting her, telling her what a good girl she was. Mr. Bernie thought he would actually have to carry her in. She did walk on last time and as she crossed the thresh hold of the vet, her bottom had more red discharge. To us it looked like blood.
The vets office put her in a cage with a blanket and told us when the vet got in they would call us. I asked the vet gal to please go put a blanket on Scoobie as she was so cold. She hugged me and assured me that she would. Mr. Bernie was tight jawed with worry and I was just sobbing. We had only got a mile up the road and the vet’s office called. Mr. Bernie turned pale while he was talking to them. He told them we were only about 5 minutes away and we would be right there. He started to get some allergies and I was hysterical. They didn’t know why this was happening to her. They were pretty sure that even with tests, she couldn’t be fixed. It was her time.
They put Scoobie in an exam room on a blanket. We both tried to be upbeat when we went into the room. She deserved to hear soothing sounds, not crying. We both sat on the floor with her and told her what a good girl she was. She didn’t even lift her head up. She was cold but kept an eye on us both. The vet gave her a sedative and left for five minutes. We stroked her and said all the soothing things we could say. Mr. Bernie’s voice was low and deep and soothing. Then it was time for her final shot. She didn’t even flinch. Which was good.
We stayed in the room for a while to say good-bye.