I just got off the phone with the vet's office, having scheduled Cassie to be put to sleep at 12:15 on Saturday. If she hadn't gotten the tumor that's the day we would have all been flying to Paris... It's just under 48 hours from now...
I'm not sure how to survive it. I can see her eyes looking at me as I type this right now. She's exhausted. Can barely walk around. Doing so gets her so tired. The exercise, or life, is so much for her that she sleeps most of the time.
Yesterday afternoon she came into my office from Maxine's, where she'd been sleeping. She was wobbly, meaning she didn't have that much control over any of her legs. Her left rear leg was limping. She was walking rapidly and erratically, not clear what she was looking for. At one point she walked past my computer stand(more later, she just got up to drink water).
She drank about 75 gulps (lots for the old Cassie and not too much for the new, steroid influenced one). Walked around the room a bit, then went back to lay down. This time 1/2 on the towels and 1/2 off, so I put a towel under her butt.
So, she walked past the computer stand, to the walk, then amoung the wires. She was clearly confused. She'd NEVER done that before. This is about the 5th (or more) time when she's plainly been confused about where she is, or where she was going.
Twitchy. I wasn't sure if she was about to have a seizure or, as I've later come to think, had just had some sort of neurological event tied to her tumor. I took her outside for bathrooming and called Maxine, who was getting gas then on her way to Target. Turned around and came home.
I made the mistake of situating Cassie in my office, so she laid there from 4 to 8pm. We assumed that she was asleep but might have just been tired and dazed.
Lots of crying on our part. I'd thought I was ready for this since we've been preparing for it for nearly 6 months, but no, the sadness is still there.
Time, lots of it, laying on the floor next to her. Around 9 we're worried that she's so out of it that we won't be able to give her her evening pills, which would really increase the risk that she would have a seizure through that...
Around 10 we ask her to come out and she does, but lays down on the grass.
We debate how we're going to sleep with her. The two choices are to put her between us on the floor, between the twin beds. Or, to put her in her long-time crate, in the bedroom (she's previously had the crate and full use of the laundry room, adjacent to our bedroom. We chose the crate because we think we'll probably sleep better, be able to touch each other in the night, and because it's a place she's completely used to.
We go to bed thinking that we'll be putting her to sleep in the morning. I dream about getting put on hold at Dr. H's, and of not remembering her phone number. Some of the time I think that the area code is 973, which of course was my parents'.....
Some movement in the night, but not much. In the morningI have to pull her towel out of the crate, with her on it, to get her to move. Maxine is cradling her head. Then she gets up!
She does some walking around, we spend 2 hours with her in the family room, on the floor, and conclude that we can't do it today. The neurological damage, evidenced by the walking, has lessened. And she seems much more aware of who we are and where we are. I head off to the gym.
Coming home from the gym, I'm thinking (of course) about all of this. Seems to me that we're propping up 'the meat'. The body is there, but not the spirit. We can get her to eat and drink and poop, but not to follow us around. At best we can pick her up, or entreat her to follow us, and plant her somewhere that we plan to be. Then she's there for hours (was under Maxine's desk for the entire 2+ hours I was at the gym, and then lunch). So, it seems to me that we're keeping her alive because we're relucant to say goodbye, rather than with any hope that she'll rally to become our dog again.
I come up with an idea. With Ally we'd had several days notice that she was going to be put to sleep. It had to be scheduled because Maxine was working. (With neither of us working, we do worry that we can wallow in the sadness and pity and loneliness of all of this sad event). Cassie is on her last legs, or so we think. But why not give her 2 days to prove us wrong. She can rest up for Thursday and Friday and it she's recovering then we're more than willing to do her part. But if she remains a piece of meat that is struggling to keep up because she's expected to, then no. Especially because of the inevitability of the tumor.
So, I've just made the appointment with the vet. And paid for it so that we can simply leave when we're done. Cause we'll be sad. I know it.....
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