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It was one week ago today, at the very hour I am sitting down to write this, that I had to say goodbye to by dear, dear dog George.
After b ravely fighting not one, but two cancers for three years and three months, my beloved companion is no longer with me.
We said our good bye’s Friday, January 11th. Two months to the day before his 9th birthday.
Very suddenly and unexpectedly he got sick. The first sign something was not right was Friday January 4th. I came home from work, George greeted me enthusiastically at the door as he always has and I noticed blood in the whites of his eyes. I thought a blood vessel had burst and in a few days it would clear up. It did not. By Sunday he was becoming lethargic. I knew something was very wrong. I took him to the vet first thing Monday morning. He was excited to see everyone as usual, gladly going back to say his hellos. I picked him up after work. Dr. Z did blood work and sent it off to the lab. Early indications were his body was not creating enough red blood cells. But we didn’t know why. Now all I could do was wait. I already knew in my heart this time was different.
By Monday night George showed the first sign of weakness. His hind legs just fell out from underneath him. I knew this was serious. I called my mom in tears. George was laying helplessly in the hallway. He eventually was able to get up. By Tuesday night George was taking a turn for the worse. Because of the red blood cell problem he could bruise easily so it was important he be treated gingerly. I padded my bedroom floor with blankets so the room would be cushioned and slept on the floor with him. At three in the morning he let out a screeching howl. I jumped to my feet, turned the light on and saw him clearly in some pain. I thought he was having a stroke and at one point his eyes had a blank stare in them. I cried out to him not to leave me, not right then. He perked back up. I comforted him through the night and first thing Wednesday morning rushed him to his vet. They had to carry him in as he was so weak. When Dr. Z came in the exam room he started wagging that tail of his. Even in his discomfort and labored breathing he was still trying to be the exuberant George we all know and love. Dr. Z told him to save his energy!
The lab work was back from his tests and it confirmed what her preliminary diagnosis was. His bone marrow was not creating enough red blood cells. That was causing his body to not have enough oxygen, therefore the labored breathing and weakness. What we did not know was if his lymphoma had moved into his bone marrow or if he was developing another tumor somewhere in his body. They did an xray and did not find any tumors. Because his blood cell count was so low he was in dire need of a blood transfusion. At this point the decision was made for me to rush him up to his oncologist in Northern Kentucky where he could get round the clock care.
They had to carry George out of Dr. Z’s office on a stretcher. After we loaded him in the car the staff at Pennyroyal was hugging me outside the car. George turned his head over his shoulder and saw all of us. There he was with a smile and twinkle in his eyes almost to say “what’s this commotion about?”
George slept most of the ride up to Northern Kentucky. But right as I was getting on my exit he let out that horrible screeching howl again. I turned around to see him stretching his neck straight up in the air to get a breath. I was panicked and the remaining ten minutes of the ride cried out to him to “hold on, just hold on ten more minutes we were getting help.” I called Dr. Bruner’s office to let them know were were pulling in the lot and this was an emergency and I needed help getting George in. His two vet techs met us in the parking lot with a stretcher, picked him up and laid him on his side. And he did it again! In the midst of his suffering he started banging that tail of his a mile a minute on the stretcher. He may not have had the strength to lift his head and wiggle his body with enthusiasm, but he was going to wag that tail of his to let everyone know he was happy to be there. Fighting back tears, we had a little chuckle over that. That’s my boy!
I left George so they could start a blood transfusion. This was going to take about 8 hours. There was nothing I could do by being there. When I returned at 8pm he was still getting his transfusion so I went to Cincinnati to stay with one of my best friends from high school so I could be close. They called me a little before 11 and I went back to visit him. George perked up a little. He was able to walk, although he was a little wobbly. When he came into the room to visit with me he gave me a big kiss as he walked by me and then his feet fell out from underneath him. I returned Thursday at lunch for a visit. By now I learned George’s cancer did not return. Instead he had and immune disease that was causing the low production of red and white blood cells. A disease that in itself is treatable I learned. But since George has already been through two cancers and the drug used to treat the immune disease can cause lymphoma, this was not an option. Even if it would have been, I had come to terms that I was not going to put George through anything else.
In my mind I was hoping I could bring George home for the weekend and then let him go Sunday. That was not meant to be. By Thursday night during my visit it became painfully clear the time had come. That was the very first time he was showing signs that he was getting tired. He couldn’t even wag his tail. I had asked him Tuesday night as I laid on the floor with him to let me know, show me a sign when he was ready and I would let him go so he would not suffer. Thursday he was starting to let me know.
I brought his dog bed from home so he would have a piece of home and comfort with him, something familiar. As they carried him to the back I heard him howl again. It was so hard to hear I had to cover my ears.
Friday I woke up with a severe migraine and was waiting for it to go away before I went to visit. I got a call late in the morning that he was not well and would be going on his own soon if I didn’t do something. I rushed over immediately. I told them to please tell George I was on my way.
When they brought George into the room on his dog bed I could tell he was ready. He was tired. He did not feel well. It was his time. There was no doubt. It was breaking my heart to see him this way and I could tell it was breaking George’s heart just as much not being able to be the people pleaser he has always been. We spent about a half an hour alone. I talked to him. Told him how lucky I was to have him in my life for the time I did and then we said goodbye. It was very peaceful and only took a few seconds. George was at peace. He was no longer suffering.
George’s vet in Lexington, Dr. Bianca Zaffarano summed up George very well in a touching note to me after his passing:
“What an incredibly special wonderful man he was - How blessed were we to have had his incredible lust for life in our lives! I will dearly miss his happy bundle of energy and know if his infrequent visits into our lives affect us all this deeply then your loss must be profound.
He graced us all with such love, such enthusiasm for life, such unconditional forgiveness for any kind of painful infliction.
... now he is free of the body that finally failed his soul - but wherever he is, he is blessing a hundred times over all those who get to experience his joy.”
George taught me several valuable lessons. He taught me to live life to the fullest no matter what obstacles you may face. IF he was ever uncomfortable or did not like chemo he sure never let anyone in on that secret. For George it appeared to be one big happy adventure. Even in the end, in his final hours he was trying so hard to look past the pain and suffering and be strong and happy for me and everyone around him. What a true act of selflessness.
George embraced life with zest and enthusiasm. He saw the good in all people. He never complained even when things were bad. He loved unconditionally and was a true inspiration to all who met him. He never worried about expressing his feelings. He was more than happy to let you know how he felt about you. He showed me so much love and affection and never worried about what he was going to get in return. In fact he showed everyone he met love, even strangers. If only we as people could learn to love like that. How wonderful would it feel to embrace love without fear of rejection. How liberating it must feel to love like that. Just thinking about his affection brings a smile to my face. At the end of a bad day a greeting from George could make it all better.
If you have never had the bond with a pet that I was lucky enough to have with George I know it is hard to understand all of these feelings. But to me, those are the people who have truly missed out. It is a special bond that we as people sadly do not have with one another. And that is our loss. My hope is I can learn to put the intellect and analysis of being a person aside and learn from George all that life is and all that relationships can be.
The last lesson George taught me in his final hours was about death and letting go of those you love. When you love someone so much and you see that their hope is gone and they want to be free of the pain and suffering it becomes easy to do the right thing. I could have never imagined it would be as easy as it was. Since George was sick I knew this day would come, even though I was lured into a false sense of hope that it would be much later than this. I thought letting go would be impossible. That was the easy part. Seeing him suffer was unbearable. The actual act of letting him go for his well being was comforting.
My loss is deep. There will never be another George. He was one of those once in a lifetime pets you hear about. I was blessed to have him in my life and will always have fond memories of him. His time here was too short, but he made the most of every day and will be missed immensely.
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