Tomorrow Molly and I are going to the vet.
Each time we go I wonder if this time will be the last. It’s true the decision is mine to make, but if you’ve ever loved a furry, you know it’s never that simple.
Molly’s case is especially difficult for me, because it’s hard to tell what exactly is going on with her. With other loved ones who suffered from a terminal illness I could somewhat tell when it was time to let go.
But Molly’s CDS has progressed to the point that she is on automatic pilot most of the time, so there are no signals like those I experienced with other companions. We walk each morning and she seems to do ok, but she isn’t engaged and the rest of the day she’s lost. She struggles to squat and potty and she has a tremor in her left rear leg. The lipoma on her chest has grown so large that her right front leg turns inward now, and sometimes I notice she minimizes the weight she puts on that leg. All this despite a daily dose of Carprofen for pain management.
Molly sleeps much of the day, and I’ve noticed her breathing is more labored. I’m sure it’s difficult to get comfortable with that thing bulging out of her chest. Despite all this her appetite is good, so I wonder, is she truly hurting or am I fearing the worst?
I’m grateful to have a team of caring and supportive veterinary professionals working at the clinic I frequent. They take good care of my furry family and believe, as I do, to do what you can but don’t prolong the inevitable at the expense of quality of life. I trust them to see her situation objectively because I can’t.
I pray your beloveds and you never suffer from this most horrific disease.