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THE ONE DOG FAMILY 26 September 2006 "Kimba's stuck," Walt reported. And so she was. She had gone outside, which she does a couple of times a day, usually forgetting why she wanted to be there in the first place. It's easier to get out than to get back in because you have to step up a little bit to get through the dog door from outside. I've watched her struggle with this for several days, her ever-growing-skinnier legs trying hard to get a hold on the lip of the dog door to push herself up and into my office. I thought of putting a step outside for her, but since she kind of falls out the dog door from inside, I was afraid that would result in her hurting herself going out, so I didn't. But now she was stuck, hanging with feet outside and head inside and unable to get a foothold. Sheila was looking helpless, as if she wanted to help her but didn't know how. Walt and I looked at each other. It had been kind of a difficult couple of days. First of all, Walt discovered that there was dried dog urine all along the floor against the west wall in the family room, covered by furniture so it hadn't been apparent. He didn't know if the floor was slightly tilted and it had rolled to one end of the kitchen in the middle of the night, over many nights, or if Kimba had actually been going under the credenza to pee. It was also possible that this was left over from the last batch of puppies, but since a plastic file folder was still wet that probably was not the case. I also had put a towel down to soak up the puddle of urine outside my office door and Walt decided to remove it and wash that bit of floor as he was on his way to church. When he knelt down to pick up the towel, he knelt in a fresh puddle of urine. Later, I went to get a cup of coffee and I sat, for a moment, in the recliner in the family room. Within seconds I heard tap-tap-tap, Kimba making her way, v-e-r-y slowly and painfully across the floor to flop down on the dog bed at my feet. I wanted to tell her that she really didn't have to be with me all the time. It's really OK if she stays where she is comfortable. It had taken so much effort on her part to join me in the family room that I ended up sitting there for half an hour watching something I had Tivo'd just because I wanted to give her a chance to rest before I got up to go back into the office again. And so Walt and I looked at each other and we decided that the time had finally come to put her down. She still had that big smile when she looked at you, but she had stopped wanting to eat half of the time. She was fading away and it was time to let her go. In the interest of total honesty, this was not a heartbreaking decision. As I have said many times, Kimba and I never really bonded. But in the past few years, with all the strange dogs with all their strange quirks we have had through here, I have started to soften toward Kimba. I now pet her. I scratch her behind the ears. I don't talk to her, because she's deaf. But I don't hate her any more. I actually like her. So this decision was very sad, but it was not on a par with Peggy having to have Keno put down or Ned saying goodbye to Yogi, or even with holding Elmer as he lost his hold on life. But it still wasn't an easy thing to do. A little hint: If you have made the decision to put the dog to sleep tomorrow, I recommend NOT listening to the end of "Marley and Me" today. Walt and I decided to shop for a new chandelier to replace the one which hasn't worked in awhile, so we drove to Home Depot in Woodland, 10 miles away, to pick one out. I had finished listening to the CD of "Marley and Me" several weeks ago, but Walt had not, so he was gradually working his way through it and had come to Marley's last days. Before we left home, Kimba had struggled to her feet again, and I noticed, as I have before, that it seemed like she was losing the ability to stand on her back two feet as her hips swayed back and forth while she staggered. I've noticed signs of this before, but this was worse than usual. She made her way laboriously to the water bowl, where it looked like her back legs just gave out. When I went to give Sheila her treat before we left the house, Kimba didn't move and just sat there, in a place she never sits, in what had to be an uncomfortable position, staring off into space.
Then we got into the car and listened to the last days of Marley and I was a total wreck by the time we got home. It's really very strange, but Kimba seemed to go through a major downslide as the afternoon progressed. She never moved more than a few feet from her cave under my desk, but she was sleeping in places she'd never slept before--under my chair, next to the water dish, against the bookcase where I had to practically step on her to get to my desk. I've never known her to sleep in any of those places before. At one point I really thought she might be dead. When I put my hand on her, she was ... not trembling really, but kind of like a low grade "quiver." That's the only way I can describe it. She had no interest in food whatsoever, and food is generally the one thing in a day that you can count on her to be interested in. At night, she struggled to get to her feet, unsuccessfully, and so I picked her up and carried her into the family room, so she could sleep on the dog bed where she always sleeps when I watch TV. When I moved to the living room to the couch, she didn't follow me, though at one point during the night I woke up and she was in the living room. But she was back on the big bed when I woke up. When morning came it was one of those "you'll know when it's time" moments. Kimba was telling me it was time. She again refused food, she struggled to get to a comfortable position, and she lay on the floor of my office, facing a bookcase. She began to moan softly.
Sheila knew something was not right too. As Kimba's age has become more apparent over the past months, the two dogs really haven't had anything to do with each other, but Sheila lay beside her and licked her face this morning. As soon as the vet's office opened, I called and was told they couldn't take her until 5 p.m. I normally post these journal entries around 3 p.m. so I am actually posting this before the actual event takes place, but by tonight, we will be a one-dog family again. Just as Ashley put out the call for new foster homes. Ironically, I noted when I put in the "This Day in my History" entries that on this date in 2000, Peggy and I took Buddy to the vet to be put down. I hope this isn't going to become a regular September event. |
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PHOTO OF THE DAY
Last picture of Kimba
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This is Journal entry #2372
9/16/06
