fond farewell to a friend

Two weeks ago today I said goodbye to my beautiful eskie boy Sam.

Sammy

I had no idea how things would go but I knew that I wanted to be strong for him. I wanted him to have a peaceful, dignified death and I didn't want him to be frightened or upset by what was going on.  Looking back, I think that I was able to give him that.

As you know, Sam had been diagnosed with heart failure caused by a mass which was growing in his heart.  The presence of the mass was making the good part of his heart work double time, causing it to be enlarged and fluid was collecting around his heart and in his lungs. 

The little cough he had over the summer was getting worse.  On the advice of his vet, I had doubled his medication after a particularly bad night but I knew that the end was getting near.  I didn't want him to die alone, on the floor in the house somewhere, having coughed himself to death in the night.  I wanted to be there with him, holding him tight and letting him know how much he was loved. That is exactly what happened.

On his last day, he was pretty weak.  The coughing spells were getting deeper and closer together.  There were a few times when I thought that he may not make it to his 6 p.m. appointment at the vet. He made it though.  He had a whole breast of boneless chicken for his dinner that evening and, for the first time in weeks, no meds.  He wouldn't be needing them.

He was his goofy self on the drive up there.  My friend John drove as I wasn't entirely sure of how I'd be.  On the way to the vet, it was dark and a little rainy and I remember the night Sammy came home with us for the first time.  It was a dark and stormy Thursday evening too, just before Easter so we had a four day weekend to spend with our new doggy.  Seemed like a million years ago and 5 minutes had passed at the same time.

When we got to the vet, which is in a rural area, we had a little walk around so he could sniff everywhere (as Tim, another eskie guardian says, "reading the pee-mail"), leave a pee (and a poop) and do a little post-poop happy dance in the wet grass.  There were a couple of women in the waiting area when we entered the vets.  Sam was a good looking boy and there aren't very many eskies around here so as I was used to seeing, they were all over him.  He went right up to them to say hello and I told them he wouldn't be going home tonight.  Their faces just fell and I explained that he had cancer in his heart and it was time. 

I had talked to the vet and read about how the process works, he'd be given sedation, fall asleep and then be administered the drug to stop his poor, sick, heart.  The whole thing would take between 10 and 20 minutes.  Sam, of course, had other plans.  He was hopping around, standing on his hind legs for hugs, smiling and kissing me.  I smiled back and kissed him and hugged him and talked to the vet.  We got him settled and Sam was given the first shot.  He took it like a champ (it can sting I was told).  He didn't fall asleep though, not at first, not after 5 minutes, not after 15 minutes...it took my boy 40 minutes to stop fighting the sedation and fall asleep.  I think part of it was he could hear John's voice out in the waiting area and he kept turning his head toward the door.  I just held him close to me and talked and sang to him, for 40 minutes. 

I sang him all of the silly songs I made up for the dogs and told him how much I loved him, about how much all of his friends loved him, how much we would all miss him... I gave him a "punch in the head" from my brother (it was a really cute thing Patrick and Sam did together)... I talked about some of the adventures we'd had, about doggy friends and cousins who he'd known (who were gone now ...Bella, Basil, Bubbles...).  I even reminded him about the incredible super-dog, Mighty Spartacus of Massachusetts... I really don't believe in an afterlife for people but I like the idea of the Rainbow Bridge for dogs so we talked a lot about that, about how he'd see all of those dogs and Mark when he got there.  I sure hope I'm totally wrong and that place exists because Sam totally deserves a place like that. 

When it was finally over, I called John in.  We both kissed Sam goodbye and left.  I felt strangely peaceful after and I realized that it was because for the first time in weeks I wasn't worried and terrified.  Sam wasn't coughing or possibly in pain or frightened and everything I was so concerned about was over now.

The house has been weirdly quiet for the last two weeks, even with three dogs still there.  Sam was a bit of a jerk about barking and I would have to haul his butt into the house at least once a day to stop him barking at another dog in the neighbourhood who was also barking (he never started it but always wanted to end it).  Gracie was really sad and out of it the first week.  The second week was a bit stranger for her and the little girls because my roommate was away so they've been home alone while I've been at work.  She's due home this afternoon and I"m sure that those dogs won't be letting her out of their sight for a while!

While making the decision and saying goodbye to my Sammy was probably the hardest thing I've never done, I know it was absolutely the right thing to do for him.  I miss him like crazy but given what we were dealing with, I wouldn't have done it any other way. 

my heart is so heavy

I cannot believe that I have to say good bye to you, forever.

Sammy and Me

You were always my boy.  Always.  Gracie was Mark's girl and you were my boy.

You've been my constant snuggler, my seeker of tummy rubs, my elbow humper.

I love your big, beautiful, bright shining brown eyes and smile as wide as the ocean.

I'll miss your biscuit cream and white fur, the softest, sweetest smelling cotton ball fluff that attaches itself to anything and everything and caused me to invest in so many lint rollers over the years.

I absolutely cannot believe that I have to say good bye to you, forever.

Cancer is stealing you away from me, it's a fucking thief.  It took Mark already, why you too?

You don't like everyone but the folks you do connect with you love fiercely.

You absolutely love me.  Or at least you love the lady who gives you food and tummy rubs.

You are my protector, my defender, my barking jerkball at times.

How much time have I spent yelling at you and dragging your butt back into the house over the years because of your out of control barking at back yard intruders, real and imagined?

You live in the moment though so you never seemed bothered when I was upset and honestly, I couldn't stay upset at you for very long.

Sam, you were the first dog who ever owned my heart and I will love you forever.

I cannot believe that tomorrow, I will have to say good bye to you forever.

I am relieved that the medication I've been giving you has given you a good quality of life the past few weeks.

I am relieved that you're happy and oblivious to what is going on around you.

I am so delighted to see you smile and run toward me for a treat or a scratch, like you have since you were a puppy and came home with us for the first time.

I watched you last night and again this morning, from inside the kitchen, as you lay outside on the deck in your favourite spot, oblivious to the cold, enjoying your view, watching over your yard like you have done for years.

I am sorry that you're not going to see the snow again buddy.  Snow is just about your favourite thing.   You love to lay in it, eat it, run through it, roll in it, you're a regular snow boy and I almost can't believe that you're missing it this year.

Oh Sammy... my special nap buddy, my monkey bum boy, my wiggly butt guy, my stealth cookie dough stealer, my buddy and my best friend.  I love you Sam.

I love you now and will forever....my beautiful, sweet, goofy, brown eyed, fluffy butt boy.

More Sammy News

My Sammy

I haven't been able to bring myself to write this update.

Many times over the past few weeks I have sat down and tried to start but didn't know where to begin.

It's time to do it though so I'm just going to start...

On October 18, we went back to the vet for a follow up appointment.  He seemed to respond well to the medications which had been prescribed the week earlier.  His legs were no longer shaking, he was eating well, taking his meds like a trooper, his stamina on walks was good.  Sam was still coughing but seemed to be doing much better.  On the 18th, they gave him a follow up chest X-Ray.  Not much had changed, a bit of fluid had decreased in his lungs but they weren't clear.

The next step would be an echo-cardiogram.

We made an appointment for October 23 and went home, continuing with the meds and hoping against hope that it was "just heart disease" and that the echo-cardiogram would confirm no growth in his heart.

Two weeks ago today, we returned for the test.  He was an amazing rock star throughout the ultrasound.  The vet was able to determine that there was a mass in his heart.  It was causing the healthy parts of his heart to work double time.  Without a biopsy, there was no way to say 100% that he had cancer but that's what it looks like.  Given that his cough had started in April but didn't become horrible until October meant that they considered the mass to be slow growing.  Sam was definitely not going to be living to be an old man (he turned 10 in August) but we had no idea how much time he had.  Could be days, weeks or maybe months.  I was told that eventually, he'd pass out and die, painlessly, almost exactly how Mark died.  Sam was basically going to drown in fluid from his enlarged and overworking heart.  The truly awful thing about this is that Sam is a really healthy guy.  He has some GI problems once in a while but his overall health is good.

When we went home, I was in a bit of shock, but not really.  I had sort of expected to get the worst possible news.  After what happened with Mark, my brain is sort of wired for that now.  I'd been told that if he got really bad, I could double his meds and then call them.  Last night into this morning, things got bad.  He's coughing more and more and the time between bouts is getting shorter.  Both Jasmine and I have taken to watching his chest very closely.  More than once over the past couple of days I've thought he had passed away.  I've doubled his meds so hopefully he's a bit more comfortable today but I know that's just a band aid solution.  I can feel him getting thin under his thick white coat of Eskie fur and I'm starting to worry that he's frightened and uncomfortable.  I don't want him to get a point where he can't breathe and I see that point is getting closer.  I love him so much, he's always been my boy (the same way that Gracie was always Mark's girl) and I can't imagine him not being in the house at the end of the day, "hiding" in the bedroom so I can call out "where is Sammy?  I don't even know where he is!" and then seeing him jump up and down on the bed as if to say "I'm here, right here!! Please come and scratch and rub me!!!"

At some point this week, I'm pretty sure I'll be saying goodbye to him and it's breaking my heart.  He's just been the best guy, always there when I needed him, especially after Mark died.  I want him to have a beautiful, peaceful death and I want to be there when it happens.  I want for him what Mark didn't have... I think that this is especially difficult for me because it's stirred up a lot of feelings I have about Mark's death.  At least I know that I will get through this, that doesn't make things any easier unfortunately.