Saturday, November 17, 2012
It's been a very trying week. My greyhound has had Cognitive Dysfunction Syndrome (essentially, doggie dementia) for the last year, and he's become very unpredictable and difficult to handle. He'd been having seizures and had lost his spark--he spent a lot of his time staring off into space. I finally had to make the awful decision to put him to sleep this week. I'm torn up with guilt--did I wait too long? Does he understand what's happening to him and why I have to do this? I sent him to the Rainbow Bridge on Thursday. I am very, very sad about this. I rescued him when he was five, and had him six and half years. He was a greyt dog. I will miss Trix a lot.
If that wasn't bad enough, my Mosey cat got sick yesterday and we wound up in the vet's office yesterday afternoon. Diagnosis: hairballs. Again. He got subQ fluids and an anti-nausea injection, and he seems to be feeling better this morning. He's nearly 14, and a long-haired kitty. He has enough issues (kidney disease and urinary issues); he doesn't need hairballs too. He's lived about a decade longer than he was expected to; I got him as a result of his being hit by a car and his previous owner was unable to get him the treatment he needed. I took over the doctor's bills and took custody of Mosey, and haven't regretted it at all.
All of our animals are elderly. Our oldest cat, Festus, is nearly 19 and is doing pretty well, all things considered. She also has kidney disease and inflammatory bowel disease, but she's stable, which is the best thing we can expect for a cat of her advanced age.
I realize this post has nothing to do with food or exercise, but sometimes it's about more than that. Today it's about my furkids. It's been a week I don't care to repeat any time soon.