You may wonder why there was no post from me last week, or you may not, of course. I’m afraid I’m wiping Diva Day off the calendar for last week, as we had a very, very bad day and it’s taking a while to get over it. I certainly can’t get my head round valentangles in my present mood.
Our elder daughter – middle child but elder daughter – lives alone with her dog Kitty and they are inseparable. On Sunday, they came for Sunday dinner, as they often do, and we noticed Kitty seemed to be off her food. Alex phoned the following morning to say the dog has been sick a couple of times overnight and we agreed she would keep her on fluids for a couple of hours and see if she felt any better. By late afternoon she was worse and we took her to the vets, a vet we have used before and know and trust.
She seemed quite ill to me, confused and didn’t appear to know where she was – normally it takes both of us to get her inside because she doesn’t like going there but she just meekly followed us in. While we were waiting to see the vet, she was pacing round and round the waiting room, virtually empty, thank Heaven. He examined her and decided an X ray was needed, under general anaesthetic, to make sure she hadn’t swallowed anything or had a blockage somewhere in her system. Of course. it would be fairly expensive and of course Alex has no money so I just said of course and we left a very confused and unhappy dog.
About half an hour later Alex phoned in some distress because the vet had called her to say they weren’t going to do the X ray yet because her heart rate was too high, so they would keep her on a drip to rehydrate her, get her heart rate down and then do it the following morning. He had said more but Alex hadn’t taken it in very well, so I called the vet to ask for more detail. He was with another patient but would call back within the half hour, which he did. However, instead of calling to clarify what he had said previously, he told me that Kitty’s condition had deteriorated to such an extent that he was pretty sure she had not long to live.
It fell to the loved one to call Alex to get her coat on and be ready for us to take her down there, and, although he didn’t tell her more, she isn’t stupid and guessed that things were pretty bad. We picked her up, exceeded the speed limit and were at the vet’s in less than ten minutes. Kitty was lying unconscious on the bench, apparently in little pain or distress but we could see her pulse racing in her throat. She could not be saved and we stood holding her until she passed away.
Alex , obviously, distraught, insisted on going back to an empty house full of dog paraphernalia, where she spent the night alone. When times are good, Alex suffers from depression. These are not good times. And the loved one and I can do so little for her. We have spent over 30 years trying to protect our children and, when it really counts, we are useless.
I’ll be back next week, world, hopefully in a better frame of mind.