My big, beautiful, Mama's boy, Booker, the Gordon Setter is gone.
He had severe heart troubles three weeks ago which warranted a trip to CSU Veterinary Hospital. No one really knew what was wrong with him or why his heart was doing this. The most common cause is cancer but they couldn't find any definite tumors. There was a flurry of guesses and tests and it was an emotional roller coaster for Furry Husband and I.
We brought Booker home on heart meds and he had a really good three weeks. Really good. We spoiled him rotten... and when I say rotten, I mean rotten! You could see Booker thinking, "I dunno what I did, but this is so cool. I am golden!"
He felt good up until this weekend.
He began acting depressed and stopped eating. It wasn't obvious ... he just acted... I dunno.... restrained. He followed me everywhere, tail wagging but he just wasn't right - there was no sparkle - he wasn't his exuberant self.
We pulled blood and urine on Monday. Booker was scheduled to see a vet at CSU Tuesday afternoon.
Monday night Booker was uncomfortable - on the bed, off the bed, on the bed, off the bed.... moaning and panting and he just couldn't get comfortable. But he was up and wagging. I put him in his kennel (right next to our bed and used as a nightstand) so we could try and get some sleep. It's painful to have a 75lb dog jump up on you, pop an ovary and then jump off only to repeat it over and over again.
At 5am I got up and opened his kennel only to find he could no longer stand. We pulled him out of his kennel and moved him into the living room. It was a repeat of the Saturday night three weeks ago when he first collapsed. He couldn't move he was so weak and his gums were pale as pale can be.
There was no sense in prolonging this for him. We called our vet who came to our home to put Booker down. No one at CSU Vet Hospital knew why it was happening, the fact he kept overcoming the heart meds (we'd had the dosage adjusted once before after another mild collapsing episode) told us something was really, really wrong.
It was a very sad day for us yesterday. We were sort of lost... we went to the Humane Society because we just had this big, gaping 75lb hole in our hearts... but of course none of the dogs there was Booker and we'd much rather bring a dog home when we can be happy about it vs. being so, so, sad.
We stopped at The Rio Grande - a place famous for margaritas. I downed three and then we stopped at the feed store where lo and behold was one, lone, solitary kitten someone brought in for a new home.... screaming it's little fool head off. We took the "grief kitten" home.
*head hitting desk*
New rule. No drunken adoptions of grief kittens.
This morning under more sober light, we decided we can not keep this little grief kitten. We have six, count them SIX cats already and I am well on my way to crazy cat lady land.
My friend Karen told me she was thinking about getting a kitty when we went to the Ballpark Flea Market together. I called her today and told her about our little grief kitten. She's going out of town this weekend but wants him when she gets back. I was given strict instructions: "Do NOT name my cat and do NOT get too attached!"
We are o.k. We are sad. Awful sad and we will miss that big ol' dawg. There will never be another like him.