Living Versus Existing
One year ago this week, we put down our 13-year-old Shiba Inu, Kasey. She suffered from advanced kidney disease and pancreatitis, all conditions from which she would not recover. At the point she stopped “living” and started merely “existing,” we knew it was time to say goodbye.
No Longer the Dog We Knew
Her outward appearance didn’t indicate anything was wrong. But we knew. She wasn’t full of life like she had been. I know dogs slow down when they age, but her personality changed. She no longer ran to greet us when we came home from work. She no longer slept with us. She spent most of her time in our walk-in closet, lying behind clothing that hung to the floor.
Did She Have An Accident?
One morning soon after we woke up, we fetched her from our closet and noticed the floor was soaked where she laid. It smelled like urine. Kasey was completely unaware that one side of her coat was wet with her own pee. She didn’t have accidents in the house, so this event was disturbing. That day, I made an appointment with my veterinarian, Dr. Williams, to have her evaluated.
Advanced Kidney Disease
Her CBC came back with concerning results: advanced kidney disease and pancreatitis. Kidney disease in dogs has 4 stages. In stage 1, the kidneys function at 90%; by stage 4, the kidneys function at 20-25%. Kasey was between stages 3 and 4. At this stage of her disease, Dr. Williams could only prescribe medication to make her comfortable. She advised us to let her know when we were ready to let Kasey go.
How Do We Make This Decision?
Making the decision to euthanize Kasey was one my husband and I wrestled with for a while. When I finally mustered up enough courage, I called Dr. Williams’ office and made the appointment. Scheduling an end date for our pet’s life was surreal. We measured everything in time: her final weeks, her final days, her final hours. We cherished her last dog park visit, her last pup cup, the final walk around the block. When it was time to take her to Dr. Williams, I realized this was actually going to happen. Up to that moment, I tricked myself into believing today would never arrive.
Her Final Moments
We were quickly ushered into an exam room. We saw blankets spread out on the floor. We gently laid Kasey on the blankets. Immediately, tears started flowing. Dr. Williams injected propofol first, to render Kasey unconscious. The vet left the room to allow us some alone time with our dog. When Dr. Williams returned, she injected pentobarbital into Kasey’s leg vein. After a couple of minutes, Dr. Williams used her stethoscope to check for a heartbeat. She said, “she’s gone.” Her body was still present but she wasn’t our Kasey anymore. It was hard to believe we would never see her again once we left the exam room. We asked for her ashes and a plaster print of her paw.
Life Moves On
The night she was euthanized, I found it hard to turn off my brain. So many memories of her flashed through my mind. I cried myself to sleep. It took several months before we thought about getting another dog. We eventually adopted an 18-month-old Shiba Inu, Mochi. Even though she is the polar opposite of Kasey, we love Mochi just the way she is. I’ll always have fond memories of Kasey. I picture her in heaven, playing with other beloved pets who have crossed the rainbow bridge.