Tomorrow will be the day
That's the sad news after visiting with the vet. Tomorrow will be the day I say goodbye to Nikki.
She's lost almost a pound since we were in to the vet last week, which is about 5% of her body weight. That would be like me dropping thirteen pounds before Christmas. Also, her red blood cells have dropped once again, so that she's got about half what she ought to have. The increased anemia helps explain her lack of balance and energy.
Dr. Kjelland guessed that under the best of circumstances we'd have a few days to a short week before she'd be so far gone that this would be necessary. But he also pointed out that cancer in its last stages can be a very awful thing. Since it's certain that I'll lose her this week no matter what we do, the merciful thing seems to be to let her go while she's not in pain, rather than waiting until she's possibly in a lot of pain.
As I mentioned to Jeff, though, I'm realizing today just how fine the line is between euthanasia and execution. Really, they're identical in their outcome and methods... the only difference is in their intentions and emotions. Maybe that's a huge difference, and when I'm less emotionally attached, that's exactly how I'd argue. But it's going to be hard to feel good about this until there's more distance.
Dad's coming up tonight. He wanted to be with us... I think he also couldn't stand to let Nikki go without being there. She's been "his" dog when I've been away, and they're pretty attached to each other.
Tomorrow morning I'll make the appointment with the vet. It'll be done before noon. I've decided that the best thing to do next will be to take Nikki to a vet in Fargo who does cremations. I can't stand the idea of her being put in a landfill (which is what happens to pets whose owners choose to leave them to the clinic to dispose), but the pet cemetery in Jamestown is probably going to be beyond my reach. Since the ground here is frozen, I won't be able to bury her until spring, and that means cremation will make the most sense.
I've talked to a city council member and the president of our congregation, and both assured me it would be fine for me to bury my dog in the city limits, in the parsonage yard. What I'm planning on doing is planting a tree by her grave, and letting that be her marker. She doesn't need a stone to creep out the little kids who will live in this house 50 years from now... but a living, growing tree that other dogs will come and gather around (and mark) seems to be a fitting tribute.
I don't know how Sunday is going to go. I need to write a sermon still, and it's going to be hard to do. I don't expect that I'll preach the longest or best sermon of my life on Sunday, but perhaps it will turn out better than I expect.
In the movie "The Two Towers," Viggo Mortensen, playing Aragorn, kicks a helmet across the screen and falls to his knees in agony over lost companions. During the actual filming of that scene, Mortensen broke several toes on his final kick - the take that ended up in the film. He channeled the obvious pain into his vocation as an actor, and it was the best take of the bunch.
On Sunday, the best I'm hoping for is to do a Viggo Mortensen.
I should go, though. I need to take care of a few things before Dad gets here, and I want to make sure I have as much time as possible with Nikki. This is our last night together.
She's lost almost a pound since we were in to the vet last week, which is about 5% of her body weight. That would be like me dropping thirteen pounds before Christmas. Also, her red blood cells have dropped once again, so that she's got about half what she ought to have. The increased anemia helps explain her lack of balance and energy.
Dr. Kjelland guessed that under the best of circumstances we'd have a few days to a short week before she'd be so far gone that this would be necessary. But he also pointed out that cancer in its last stages can be a very awful thing. Since it's certain that I'll lose her this week no matter what we do, the merciful thing seems to be to let her go while she's not in pain, rather than waiting until she's possibly in a lot of pain.
As I mentioned to Jeff, though, I'm realizing today just how fine the line is between euthanasia and execution. Really, they're identical in their outcome and methods... the only difference is in their intentions and emotions. Maybe that's a huge difference, and when I'm less emotionally attached, that's exactly how I'd argue. But it's going to be hard to feel good about this until there's more distance.
Dad's coming up tonight. He wanted to be with us... I think he also couldn't stand to let Nikki go without being there. She's been "his" dog when I've been away, and they're pretty attached to each other.
Tomorrow morning I'll make the appointment with the vet. It'll be done before noon. I've decided that the best thing to do next will be to take Nikki to a vet in Fargo who does cremations. I can't stand the idea of her being put in a landfill (which is what happens to pets whose owners choose to leave them to the clinic to dispose), but the pet cemetery in Jamestown is probably going to be beyond my reach. Since the ground here is frozen, I won't be able to bury her until spring, and that means cremation will make the most sense.
I've talked to a city council member and the president of our congregation, and both assured me it would be fine for me to bury my dog in the city limits, in the parsonage yard. What I'm planning on doing is planting a tree by her grave, and letting that be her marker. She doesn't need a stone to creep out the little kids who will live in this house 50 years from now... but a living, growing tree that other dogs will come and gather around (and mark) seems to be a fitting tribute.
I don't know how Sunday is going to go. I need to write a sermon still, and it's going to be hard to do. I don't expect that I'll preach the longest or best sermon of my life on Sunday, but perhaps it will turn out better than I expect.
In the movie "The Two Towers," Viggo Mortensen, playing Aragorn, kicks a helmet across the screen and falls to his knees in agony over lost companions. During the actual filming of that scene, Mortensen broke several toes on his final kick - the take that ended up in the film. He channeled the obvious pain into his vocation as an actor, and it was the best take of the bunch.
On Sunday, the best I'm hoping for is to do a Viggo Mortensen.
I should go, though. I need to take care of a few things before Dad gets here, and I want to make sure I have as much time as possible with Nikki. This is our last night together.
posted by Bob at
5:42 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home