August 15-16, 2020
We had cautiously celebrated the seeming progress our Precious Girl had made during the end of the week. But Saturday she was again back to being iffy about eating. After dinner she was uncomfortable and complained so we increased her pain medications as we had been instructed. It helped; she slept and at post walk treat time (she skipped the walk) she even at a treat. We all felt relief.
At 2am Pearl awoke yipping in pain. She quieted when Steve went into the office and lay curled on the floor with her. She feel asleep and he returned to bed past 5am. "I don't expect she will sleep long," he told me. "In the morning let's see how she is and maybe go to the ER." I began feeling dread.
At 6 I heard her tags jingling and her unstable step in the hall. The rest of the White Dog Army was instantly awake...and so was Steve. He rushed to her with a cry. "Oh, no! She just expelled a pool of blood!"
"Give her to me and dress. Then get her to the ER."
I held Pearl wrapped in a towel. I kissed her head and she gently lay against my heart. For the first time ever, I felt the amazing connection with her that I had so long ached for. I kissed her and she squirmed in pain. I knew.
Steve took her from my arms and drove the four blocks to the emergency vet. The doctor came out and got her and her waited in the car. When he called, the vet was on three-way.
She had the tone that I think they teach all healthcare people. "There is not much we can do for her. We did a quick ultrasound and something has ruptured. She is in great pain. The most humane thing would be for us to help end her suffering."
They allowed Steve into a special lounge designed for these moments and he spent some time with Pearl. Then she was gone. She is home with us; in these bizarre times, the pet crematorium is not open until Monday morning. We could not bear her remains being in an ER refrigerator with no one to grieve her...and the White Dog Army was very disoriented about where Pearl was and what had happened.
I want to be mad at someone...at Dr. Julia for not fixing things...at Pearl for dying on Steve's birthday... at the horrible mill breeder that left her health broken...but I cannot work up the rage. "Who is going to be our Watcher?" I ask at the furs pressing all around me. "Who will start the Song to the Mailman?' "Who will I get to hug that was so long awaited and filled my heart?"
The last question was answered as the White Dog Army smothered me with nuzzles and kisses, "Hug us. Pearl will feel it through us."