I’m so sorry John. It’s awfully difficult. In the last few days she found less rest, less ease, less appetite. Family visited her the night before. She found her appetite with the joy of their visit but internal bleeding began the next day. When the vet gave her the pain relief the first moments of comfort were so striking. She hadn’t been comfortable in so long. The gabapentin just wasn’t good enough in the last week. You could see the barbiturate do it’s best work. She eased smoothly to rest.
On her last walk, before we went to the vet, she paused and gently looked at me for a full minute, maybe longer, and seemed to be taking her last look. She seemed ready, seemed to know, and seemed to understand that it was time. As far as this heartbreak goes, it probably couldn’t have been any more smooth and timely. The best one can hope for. The home is so very quiet now. And yet in my heart, in my minds ear, I hear her stretch and shake her collar several times a day.
Yes, it is awful that we outlive them but, in my view, it’s better than the alternative. How unbearable it must be for them when they lose their beloveds but can’t understand why.
The gabapentin allowed her to rest for, roughly, the first two weeks. We increased it but it never really gave her enough rest after that and in the final few days she would only sleep in fits and starts, panting heavily all night the last two nights. That was partly how we knew she would be ready to go.
John, I have needed—need—my family during this time and am so grateful to have them available. If you find yourself facing your difficult times alone please reach out. I’m available.
A day like that awaits me some time this year. My broken heart is with yours, and thank you for giving Rory a great home.
I’m so sorry John. It’s awfully difficult. In the last few days she found less rest, less ease, less appetite. Family visited her the night before. She found her appetite with the joy of their visit but internal bleeding began the next day. When the vet gave her the pain relief the first moments of comfort were so striking. She hadn’t been comfortable in so long. The gabapentin just wasn’t good enough in the last week. You could see the barbiturate do it’s best work. She eased smoothly to rest.
On her last walk, before we went to the vet, she paused and gently looked at me for a full minute, maybe longer, and seemed to be taking her last look. She seemed ready, seemed to know, and seemed to understand that it was time. As far as this heartbreak goes, it probably couldn’t have been any more smooth and timely. The best one can hope for. The home is so very quiet now. And yet in my heart, in my minds ear, I hear her stretch and shake her collar several times a day.
Yeah, I expect it to be devastating. I'm so sick of prematurely losing creatures I love!
How did gabapentin help her? I've thought of asking my vet about it.
Yes, it is awful that we outlive them but, in my view, it’s better than the alternative. How unbearable it must be for them when they lose their beloveds but can’t understand why.
The gabapentin allowed her to rest for, roughly, the first two weeks. We increased it but it never really gave her enough rest after that and in the final few days she would only sleep in fits and starts, panting heavily all night the last two nights. That was partly how we knew she would be ready to go.
John, I have needed—need—my family during this time and am so grateful to have them available. If you find yourself facing your difficult times alone please reach out. I’m available.
Hugs to you my friend. 💕