Today sucked. No other way to put it.
Bear began to deteriorate severely last night, the result, apparently, of a brain tumor or lesion, and not vestibular syndrome as we originally thought. I found him crying on the floor, and carried him outside to go to the bathroom. He was still able to do that, but only barely. I fed him water by a dropper, and by morning he was unable to stand on his own at all.
All of this coincided with an all-night vomiting session for poor Hannah. So this morning I found myself with a sick daughter, a sleep-deprived husband, a dying dog, and healthy toddler who didn't understand any of it.
I spoke with the vet a number of times by phone and by 10:00 we agreed that I should bring Bear in for a final exam. If she felt it merited it, we would do more testing. If she felt it would come to no good, we would put him down.
I explained the situation as best I could to Hannah - wishing with all my heart that I didn't have to take her through this first real brush with death while she was still covered in a pukey night shirt. I explained that Bear had a boo-boo in his brain that we couldn't fix, and that he might have to go to Heaven. I told her that if he did, he could play with her brothers and keep them company until we join them one day, years and years from now. She cried, but managed to pet Bear, tell him she loved him, and said goodbye.
The vet confirmed what I really already knew. This was progressive and at most, we would only be able to buy a week or so of time if we pursued aggressive treatment.
I took a little video of Bear, hugged him, stroked his beautiful fur, and thanked him for being such a wonderful dog and for looking out for our whole family. At around 11:00, they put him to sleep.
Bear was alert and aware right up until I left him. He was worried and freaked out, but calmed down while I said my goodbyes. He even let out a final little groan, like he does when I pet his belly at home. The vet said he was saying bye.
I know we did the right thing, but damn this sucks. Bear was my first dog as a grown-up. I bought him when Todd and I were first dating. He was my constant companion during the sleepless hours of sobbing after each of my babies died. He watched over the girls as only good shepherding dogs can. He was wise from the age of six-weeks-old, beautiful, and sweet.
I will miss him.
