It's time

Nicki in the park, November 2022

 It's time. We said goodbye to Nicki March 16, 2023 at noon. In the days just before, I had begun noticing odd pink stains on her bedding. Thinking she might have a UTI, we went to the vet, who sent us home with two antibiotic prescriptions. More pills. One of them was huge. The next morning when we got up, I noticed more stains, but as I passed her upstairs water bowl, I saw that the water was deep pink. There wasn't blood in her urine - it was coming from elsewhere. Back to the vet. He was kind and thorough, but direct. He checked her temperature - low. Considering what she'd been going through, his opinion was that her body was finally starting to give up. He thought these were early signs of organ failure. "Maybe she's telling you that it's time." He said to continue the antibiotics (why?)

We went home, and I began to prepare. Our vets no longer make that house call. They're swamped with work and can't spare someone to come out. A friend had found a mobile vet to come to her home to help her cat (who also had DCM) to have a peaceful passing, so I got the vet's number. I made an appointment.

In the meantime, I decided not to ruin Nicki's last days by pushing more pills down her throat. When she got down to 18 pounds (from her normal 25) last November, I decided to take her off Vetmedin entirely. I had taken her off all meds for a week in October, then gradually added them back one at a time, a week apart. All was well until we got to Vetmedin, and then the wracking vomiting and diarrhea began again. Vetmedin may be a life saver for many pets, but it was killing Nicki. With the GI issues eliminated, I embarked on a feeding program that was largely based on puppy formulations to give her maximum calories. She became very picky, eating some food for a few days then refusing it entirely. It was hard to keep her eating. Nonetheless, I managed to get her up to 21 pounds again and thought we might get another spring - but it wasn't to be. Now, knowing that our time together was very short, I eliminated everything but Lasix. On Enalapril, her heart would beat frighteningly against her chest. Now, without it, that heart calmed and beat quietly. 

The day before the appointment, we all went to Home Depot where Nicki once again received all the pets and admiration from everyone nearby. It's amazing how one little dog could make so many people's days brighter. Nicki simply made everything better for everyone, everywhere she went, all the time. (She did that again one more time after she passed. Facebook doesn't allow posts offering to share medications [probably for their own legal protection] so instead I searched in Facebook for posts mentioning the medications I had to offer. When I found such posts, I PMd the poster, offering the meds. Several declined, but one lovely person who works with several rescues doing hospice work accepted. I highly recommend this method to not only help others, but to ease your grief. It does help.)  On the way back, we stopped at a gas station to get a peanut butter cup for Nicki. Chocolate couldn't hurt her now. Heading home, I did something differently. I had Nicki ride shotgun instead of in the back seat. She sat upright, facing me, leaning against the seat back, gazing at me steadily. It almost seemed as though she didn't blink. She locked her eyes onto my face and stayed that way all the way home. I reached over and rubbed her chest the whole time. At one point she almost drifted off to sleep. I kept telling her that we were going to go home and go for a walk before we lost all the light. I wanted to catch "Golden Hour" with her. Then it dawned on me; this will be our last sunset together. I said it out loud. We had spent many evenings on the front porch, just watching the sun set together. Two old ladies, drinking in the days while we could.

Once home, we headed out on our walk immediately so as not to lose the light - but it was fading too quickly. As we headed down the street, Nicki did something unusual. She repeatedly stopped and looked back in the direction of the setting sun, which was now dipping behind bare trees. She just stopped and looked in that direction, as though taking in our final sunset together. 

Nicki enjoyed that walk, and even went a little further than usual. When we got home, though, she had no interest in food at all. She mouthed a piece of the peanut butter cup, then abandoned it. At least I tried. She just wanted to cuddle, so we did. Then it was time for bed.

The following morning, I woke early. Nicki didn't stir; she was very soundly asleep. In recent months her hearing had dimmed, and the girl who startled at every sound even though asleep now slept peacefully through the nights. I wanted to get out for one more walk that morning, so we got ourselves together and headed out. This time we only got a short way down the street when Nicki turned to go home. Ordinarily I would've tried to coax her into going a little further, but not now. 

We headed home to await the vet. Nicki did something in the last few weeks that was unusual for her; she actually came over to be picked up and held in my lap. She was affectionate and Velcro enough, as Aussies are, but she wasn't a lap dog. That changed, and although it made me kind of sad, I was grateful. Now she came over looking to be held, so I picked her up and settled in. She drifted off to sleep while I rubbed her neck and shoulders, which she always enjoyed. The house was quiet. No computers or TVs, just us. The phone rang - the vet was running late. Don't hurry. Take your time. I got to hold Miss Nicki like that for 45 minutes, feeling that calm little heartbeat, no longer furiously defying death.

Assuming the vet would want to verify for herself that this appointment was warranted for the animal and not just a convenience for the owners, I had Nicki's most recent medical records ready for her, including her chest x-rays displayed on my computer screen. She said that with that degree of disease to the heart, she was surprised Nicki had made it through a year. She assured me that, even though we could keep Nicki alive longer, she would be alive but not living. She already spent most of her days asleep and refused food. She hadn't played in many days.  It was time.

We moved into the bedroom where she slept near her family every night. I had arranged her favorite flannel sheet atop a pee pad and a plastic sheet, just in case. When the spirit lets go of the body, the body lets go, too. The spot was where she would make herself at home whenever she got the chance - on my side of the bed, leaning on my pillow. Once she was settled, the vet administered the sedative shot. I'm not going to describe anything further now, because it didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped. Nicki did not suffer; it just wasn't the totally peaceful sendoff I had envisioned. I rubbed her chest as she slowly drifted off to sleep, kissing her head. In a little while after, she was gone.

It's been beautiful outside. The trees are budding and blooming. Birds are singing again. Perfect dog walking weather. Not too hot, and everything has yet to overgrow the trails. 

And I miss my girl.

A while back I told you I'd come here again to say goodbye to you for Nicki.

Goodbye

Reality Bites

 Let's talk about some of the harder things for a bit. Over the past year, Nicki has slowed tremendously. Our mile plus walks have dwindled to a block, on a good day. She never has the awful breathless spasms anymore, thanks to her meds. But she really hates taking her meds. Then there's the problem of the vomitting and diarrhea that hit her every few days. At first it wasn't even once weekly. Now it's too often to put away the rug cleaner. When those spells hit her, they knock her out. They take all of her energy - and there's precious little left. I hesitated for a long time - a year - to post the video I took of her during the attack that finally alerted us to her DCM. Before you get upset, I had already called the vet. So many times we call vets and doctors, and by the time we get to them, the problem has eased or passed completely. I wanted the vet to see exactly what Nicki was going through. I took this video while waiting to go in, as they'd given her an appointment. Right after I took the video, I called back and begged them to call me if anyone was a no-show so we could come in earler. "She can't breathe." They told me to bring her in immediately.

Nicki had been in for every wellness visit, every problem, every shot, for eight years. Two years ago, during her routine checkup, for the first time ever, one of the vets told me she had a heart murmur. A murmur. The next year she passed her checkup with flying colours, but still had "a little heart murmur". Otherwise, she was, as the vet tech relayed "a unicorn". Perfect weight for her size, good teeth, sound, strong, shining eyes, healthy coat - my girl. 

Last summer, a friend passed. We had to go out of state to the memorial, and Nicki went to board with a friend who has taken wonderful care of her over the years. It's a home boarding situation, but the friend has many dogs of her own, and also does grooming. In other words, there are a LOT of dogs. Nicki likes her quiet home life. She's really meant to be an only. I think being around so many other dogs 24/7 is stressful for her. Then, of course, being away from Momma is super stressful.

The problem appeared as soon as we brought her home from boarding. She began to cough. A lot. I thought she'd contracted kennel cough, despite being vaccinated against it annually. The day after, we were in full emergency mode. So now you've had the background. And here is that video of her from a year ago. At this point the situation was already easing somewhat. But if we're here to educate and advocate, we need to share information. It can be hard to watch, so you've been warned.

 

Since then, the meds have kept the beast at bay. But it has lurked surreptitiously, stealing my girl from me. Muscle wasting is one of the results of the disease. I had to adjust Nicki's harness to a smaller size. Her collars hang loose around her neck. I can feel her bones too easily. I can't just "feed her up" to boost her strength because her system is terribly precarious. Changes send her into multi-day bouts of vomit and diarrhea. On top of that, three of her medications have vomiting and diarrhea as side effects. I knew it would be a losing battle, but there are so many lost battles along the way.

Right now, in typical Aussie fashion, she wants to be near me at all times, but she also wants to be on her favorite beds or napping spots, so it's more like she wants *me* to be near *her*. When that doesn't happen and she relents to be wherever I am, we have moments like this one, in the late afternoon sun of the end of spring. There's a little breeze, but the sun is already hot. Trees and grasses are letting their pollen out to drift away. A little cloud of gnats swirls in the air, almost indistinguishable from the pollen and dandelion pappi. Leaves rustle. Cars go by. And Miss Nicki surveys her kingdom.

My Old Dog is Teaching Me New Tricks

 Many times, rescued dogs appreciate familiarity and predictability. Truly *rescued* dogs haven't just been rehomed; they've been saved from bad circumstances. Abusive homes are notoriously unpredictable and volatile. Neglectful situations leave their own, different scars. Both of those are soothed by the predictability of a loving home. Regular meal times with familiar foods. Predictable reactions within the family. No sudden blows, no raised voices, no punishments just for being a dog. 

Last night, Nicki and I went out for our evening walk. It's a small town, and our walking opportunities are limited by the geography of a one-stoplight-town with very few discernible "blocks". I've been letting Nicki choose our course lately in the hope that makes it more enjoyable for her. Last night I wanted to start in a slightly different direction. Basically one of our usual routes, but with a slight variation. That slight variation took us toward an area where we ordinarily finish the walk and head for home. To my surprise, Miss Nicki got to that point and began to follow our usual route - in reverse! She went the way we're used to walking, but - leading the entire way - she walked the route in reverse, then simply headed home. 

Well! She knows the walking routes so well that she can take the initiative to change it up a little! Great! Three cheers for predictability!

Then she did something relatively new. If we come home with a little bag of poo, she now walks directly to the trash can in the yard, pauses in front of it, looks up at me, and waits for me to dispose of the bag. Then she leads the way into the house. HER house. Because she's home, and she loves home.

With all this toileting trouble and the diuretic meds, she's doing something else that is completely new to me. I never had a dog try to drink from the toilet bowl before! Luckily, I believe strongly in sanitation but - sheesh!! That is a new trick I could do without!