Most of you know that my baby dog has been sick for the last week. My son and I took her to the vet last Tuesday and they put her on some medicine. We took her back Friday so they could see how she was doing and she seemed to be doing better. Then Saturday she stopped eating and drinking and vomiting. And I think she had a stroke Sunday night because Monday morning when I woke up she wouldn’t get up and walk and wasn’t acting normal. I picked her up and carried her to the car and my daughter and I took her to the vet. They wanted us to leave her so they could run some tests, give her some fluids, take blood and do some x-rays. They called me around 3:30 and wanted me to come in to talk. My daughter and I went home and got my son because I wanted them to go with me. My oldest son was at work in Tampa and wouldn’t have made it home in time to go. When we got there they told us she wasn’t responding to treatment and was getting worse. Her white blood cell count was 36 and normal is 15 I think they said. She also said she probably did have a stoke from the way she was acting. The vet said at her age they didn’t think that anything else they could do would help, but if I wanted them to try the few options they had left, they would. But I couldn’t bear watching her suffer anymore. She was shivering, panting on and off, and kept grunting, which are all due to being in pain. Plus she couldn’t stand up or walk and would focus on our faces but didn’t respond to us at all. The only thing I knew to do was to put her sleep. It was a very hard decision but it was one that had to be made. Thankfully I got to hold her for a while before they started the procedure. Then they put her up on the table, on a towel, and I sat down and pulled her to me. I kept rubbing her and telling her how much I loved her and what a good girl she was. I kept doing that while the vet gave her something to put her to sleep and then while they gave the medicine that would end her suffering. She took her last breath with me rubbing her and telling her how much I loved her. And then her pain ended. I was so thankful that I was with her, and that they let us stay with her as long as we wanted. Walking away from her was the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. The first was walking away from my husband after he passed.
Patches was 17 years old. I got her when she was a puppy. She lived a very long life and was never sick until the last week. She did have an ear ache once but we cleared it up in just a day or so.
Patches definitely knew she was loved. I told her how much I loved her every single day I had her. She would get in my lap every night and I would squeeze her and tell her she was the best doggy in the world and how much I loved her. I threw her ball every day, for hours, up until about 6 months ago when age started catching up with her and she could only chase it for an hour or so without stopping to rest. But then she was back at it. She loved that ball. And she loved her momma. She showed me that she loved me every day. She followed me from room to room. She was my shadow. When I’d leave the house I’d pull into the driveway and there she’d be, sitting on the back of the couch waiting for me to come home. And she’d meet me at the door with her tail wagging 90 miles and hour, letting me know how much she missed me and how happy she was that I was home. When she had to go potty she would jump in my lap and put her nose an inch or two from mine and just stare at me. She sat by me on the couch while I watched tv or read. She slept beside me every night for 17 years. There is no way to express how much I loved that dog. I was certainly Blessed to have been her momma.
I am still grieving over the loss of my husband Henry, who I lost in January. This year has definitely been a hard one. I no longer have my husband by my side which hurts so much every day. I have cried every single day since January 22nd, and now I don’t have my baby dog.
This is a bed Patches would lay on, on the floor beside me while I was on my laptop. I have so many pictures of her like this, and in every one of them she is laying on it different. She never once got on it with the pillow inside it. She was such a funny dog.
Here she is looking out the window, waiting for me to come home.
She loved going out on the boat with us.
She loved going out in the yard with her daddy and chasing squirrels.
RIP Patches. Momma misses you and loves you very much!