Both last night and tonight she passed scary substances. One was a large area of reddish brown liquid that had dried by the time I saw it on her fleece in her house, and the one tonight is a reddish brown jelly. I think it is from the cancer and the enlarged colon and cecum. This is what really has me worried. I doubt a trip to the vet is going to do us any good at this point, really.
She is still perky once the food or medicine comes around, thank goodness. She's still eating. She does not make any pain noises, but she is still on her pain medicine -- I mean, with her diagnosis-- two possible cancers, a bad leg, digestive problems, cysts, pre-renal problems-- I figure -something- has got to hurt. I hope she makes it until the fancy hay I bought gets here! I got the third cut and bluegrass and I know she will love it.
And of course the holidays are coming up, so there are all of the decisions about travel, and housing, and it just worries me. I've been trying to prepare myself for her loss since I got the bad report in September, but I know it will be difficult, since she is just such a perfect angel. But who thought we'd make it this far?
Please do continue to remember us...
Bethany, Silky, and Moose
I can't excuse my behavior, but one of the reasons behind it is that I have major depressive disorder, and sometimes it keeps me from doing the things that I should do. Silky's death was really hard to take and I stayed really low about it for a long time. I know quite a few people who sent me kind messages while she was sick are probably no longer here -- but I still want to tell those of you who cared Silky's story.
One night in early December 2007 I came home from a friend's house to find Silky struggling hard to breathe and unable to move. The time had come for us.
I called my vet (who still took emergency calls back then) and we met at the clinic. He took us in the back and turned on some gas to make Silky woozy so she wouldn't notice the bad shot that was coming. He left us to go prepare the shot. The gas mask was little, but still too big for Silky, so I held it up to her nose and mouth.
I put my face close to hers, my cheek against her side, the way that you do, especially in those last few minutes, telling her all the things she needed to know from my heart. As we waited, I began to feel more relaxed about things. The vet came in and quickly told me to be careful and not breathe the gas. Which I had been doing, and accidentally getting high with Silky. So that was kind of funny later, when I thought about it.
And then all the bad things happened. My vet offered to take Silky home and bury next to her original bonded partner, Sooty, who he had buried for me under a tree on his land. I thought that it was a very sweet idea and such a wonderful thing to do. He is a wonderful vet and a kind man.
I went home without Silky.