A Minute at a Time

Thanks all for your sweet comments and support. They have really meant a lot to me during this difficult time. Diva dog is still by my side (quite literally at the moment). Things were looking grim there but right now we have a brief respite from the storm. Friday evening we drove along the beach. She lifted her head a bit from the back seat and sniffed the salty the air. Just the night before she had stood up to see the beach. And a mere week before she had jumped from front seat to back repeatedly while emitting her characteristic high pitched aren't-you-gonna-stop-the-car-NOW shriek.

I told her (yes, of course I talk to my dog) that if she could show me she was able to enjoy the beach I would know she wanted to stay around, but if she couldn't even frolic just a tad I would know she was ready to leave this place. I lifted her out of the back seat, not an entirely easy feat since she is not the smallest of dogs, and set her down on the grass. She toppled over. I helped her stand up again and then she skipped on two legs over to a shrub and tried to pee. She's only got three legs to begin with and now she was lifting her rear leg off the ground to avoid putting any weight on her cancerated hip. I had to support her hind quarters in order to keep her from falling into her urine. But we managed and then she skipped along quite fast (I had to jog to keep up with her) to a new spot where we repeated the ritual for a poo. You can bet the people jogging by thought I had one pitiful canine. I brought out a padded fleece and we sat in the grass for a bit watching the waves and shivering in the cold. She was exhausted and seemed defeated and I knew I would have to say good bye very soon.

But not at soon as I thought. Because that night I gave her a new pain medication, one that was supposed to help with any inflammation and therefore might help her walk. A tiny bit of my heart held out for the magic drug but I was still on the phone making the arrangements with the vets in the morning. But I'll be damned if that drug didn't work a small miracle. By morning she was walking on three legs again, albeit somewhat gingerly. Her eyes lit up again and lost their sunken, hopeless haze. She even frisked about the back seat as we drove down to the beach for a test drive before calling the vet to cancel our last visit.

So, as I said, she's by my side and we are taking it one day at a time. Actually, more like an hour at a time, a minute at a time. I trust she will let me know when she is ready to go and I will rub her belly one last time and kiss her sweet dog lips and say goodbye. But I'm cherishing every single second we have together until that moment arrives.