The best of all possible dogs. 1998-2010.
I hope your Friday was good. Because mine sucked. I lost my best friend. And I mean that seriously, not in the Precious Moments bullshit sense of the word. I had to make the call to end the life of my beloved dog. But it was the right thing to do. It was time.
I meant to update here this past week, but things happened faster than my fingers could type. First the hospitalization. Then the surgery. Then the survival. Then the complications. Then more survival. Then the downslide. Then the decision. It happened during a week. But it was a helluva week. And it was just me and him.
Bottom line? Pancreatitis. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Don't ever get it. Don't let your pets get it, if you can help it. Vito fought and fought to get past the pancreatic inflammation, the shutdown of the intestines, the bacteria that wanted to creep into his liver. And for a while it looked like he was winning. But it was too much. He held on for Rick and the kids to get back into town, so they could have a few great, love-filled visits. And that was all he had.
Today, the doctor called me with news that his body was fighting new infection. And that his pancreas was rearing its nasty self again. And that his gallbladder was not picking up the slack from the biliary drainage tube they pulled. We could have done surgery to put in a feeding tube that bypassed the pancreas. We could have seen how that would have done. We could have kept him alive. But I have been with him every day for the past two weeks. I have seen him suffer, and I have made decisions that I thought were positive and that would prolong his life. This was not one of those decisions. So we decided to let him go. It was time. He was ready.
So we went up today and said our goodbyes. I told him what a special dog he was and what a privilege it was to know him. And how I wanted only what was best for him and that I thought it was time he was at peace. Everything in his body language and his eyes agreed with me.
I could not be with him for the final moments. I could not watch him die. He died in Rick's arms, outside, under a nice big tree. He felt no pain. He had no agitated moments. He just went. I had one more moment with him after he was gone, to say goodbye. To say, I love you little one. You were my firstborn. Go in peace. I closed his eyes. And it was over.
Vito was a superlative dog. He has received love, and is receiving it now, from around the world, from the hospital, from Boulder, from his family in San Francisco, from everyone who ever touched him. And that is what life is about. The people you touch and the joy that you spread. And Vito gets an A plus for that.
Godspeed, little puppyhead. I love you. Forever.
I meant to update here this past week, but things happened faster than my fingers could type. First the hospitalization. Then the surgery. Then the survival. Then the complications. Then more survival. Then the downslide. Then the decision. It happened during a week. But it was a helluva week. And it was just me and him.
Bottom line? Pancreatitis. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Don't ever get it. Don't let your pets get it, if you can help it. Vito fought and fought to get past the pancreatic inflammation, the shutdown of the intestines, the bacteria that wanted to creep into his liver. And for a while it looked like he was winning. But it was too much. He held on for Rick and the kids to get back into town, so they could have a few great, love-filled visits. And that was all he had.
Today, the doctor called me with news that his body was fighting new infection. And that his pancreas was rearing its nasty self again. And that his gallbladder was not picking up the slack from the biliary drainage tube they pulled. We could have done surgery to put in a feeding tube that bypassed the pancreas. We could have seen how that would have done. We could have kept him alive. But I have been with him every day for the past two weeks. I have seen him suffer, and I have made decisions that I thought were positive and that would prolong his life. This was not one of those decisions. So we decided to let him go. It was time. He was ready.
So we went up today and said our goodbyes. I told him what a special dog he was and what a privilege it was to know him. And how I wanted only what was best for him and that I thought it was time he was at peace. Everything in his body language and his eyes agreed with me.
I could not be with him for the final moments. I could not watch him die. He died in Rick's arms, outside, under a nice big tree. He felt no pain. He had no agitated moments. He just went. I had one more moment with him after he was gone, to say goodbye. To say, I love you little one. You were my firstborn. Go in peace. I closed his eyes. And it was over.
Vito was a superlative dog. He has received love, and is receiving it now, from around the world, from the hospital, from Boulder, from his family in San Francisco, from everyone who ever touched him. And that is what life is about. The people you touch and the joy that you spread. And Vito gets an A plus for that.
Godspeed, little puppyhead. I love you. Forever.
7 comments:
Julie,
Your writing is so often on point and has always been an inspiration. We are given these little love machines to care for and yet, so often they end up caring for us. And they are such troopers when they are sick...fighting and still doing their jobs. When they can't care for us anymore, we have to do the right thing. Growing up around animals, raising them for a living, nothing has ever been more of a hard and fast rule. And the pain is hard. Blessings to you and RIck and the Little Ones.
julie,
heart wrenching...as the youngest of 9 kids, we never had pets...so when I got out on my own, dee and I got serene...a mix shephard chow...13 years later when hattie was 2..I had a similar decision on my hands...it broke my heart...and I made it and through it learned what d had told me, that one of the biggest reasons we have animals is to teach us about death...well she did...hattie and I still talk about her and when we buried her in the backyard...and we still miss her....with love in my heart for all vitoites, I say goodbye to vito.
I wonder if he will rise again on sunday?
weeping here. sebastian was my firstborn too. you said all there is to say, beautifully.
go in peace, canine torpedo.
Have read your post so many times and still cry. Thank you for giving such a wonderful dog such a wonderful life.
Betsy told me about Vito, and linked me here. I'm so sorry for the whole Polito crew; I know what it is to count on a funny, furry presence, and I'm sure you guys miss each straggly whisker and every stinky kiss.
I was there when he was born, y'know. And I've followed along on his adventures through Betsy, because you can't meet a dog like that and not want to know how he turned out. I'm so glad he found your family and that you got so much love over these past 12 years. And I'm so sorry you don't get to keep him with you a little longer.
Thank you so much, subtle rudder! I'm pretty sure we met a few times when we brought Mr. Vito over for dinner.
He was really a unique little guy. He touched the lives of everyone he met. And you are so blessed to have been there from the beginning. Drink a toast to the little brown-eared guy who didn't draw so much attention to himself.
it still amazes me how a creature who cannot communicate with actual words, always has such a profound and lasting effect on us. I think when this stops happening we have lost all resemblance of humanity
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