I Am Grieving

It has been a couple of weeks or more since I last blogged. Much has happened, and I just wasn’t able to find the motivation to write about it…

On June 21st I wrote “I Am Not Prepared” about my “dog of a lifetime,” Reilly. I wrote about how she had developed a wobbly gait. Sadly, I knew that symptom could indicate a serious problem.

As those first few days unfolded, I sent off a blood test looking for Degenerative Myelopathy, a condition that causes loss of control over the rear legs. Even before I received the test results, I started to admit to myself that her front legs were also not totally under her control. I took her to the local veterinary neurologist, and he wondered if she had a degenerating spinal disk. We also talked about the diagnosis I was most afraid of: A brain tumor.

The only definitive way to see what was going on was to do an MRI. It would cost between $2500 and $4000, depending on whether they scanned one or two locations. An MRI might illuminate a brain tumor, but what would I do with that information? It wouldn’t change anything…. If she had a bad disk (and I really didn’t think that was it, as she had no pain and didn’t look like a disk dog to me), there is no way I would have subjected her to spinal surgery at her age. She had 3 out of 4 legs that had documented degenerative arthritis, so she would have really struggled to recover from something as radical as spinal surgery.

The day after we saw the neurologist, I had an appointment with a vet friend of mine who is running a stem cell study that includes one of my other dogs, Bailey. Bailey had a 90-day check-up, and I took Reilly with me to have Don assess her as well. He noted Reilly’s head tilt, which I had also noticed but was reluctant to admit to myself. The date was Thursday, June 28th.

Later that day, my boyfriend and I made a whirlwind trip to Colorado for personal reasons. We were planning on leaving for a week at the lake on Friday, but we opted to insert a 1300 mile trip in front of our lake trip. Of course, Reilly went with us. I knew we were in trouble, so for the entire trip, she got whatever she wanted. She ate McDonald’s bacon, egg and cheese biscuits for breakfast, and hamburgers for lunch. I never touched the dog food I had packed. Alan took some photos of Reilly and me right before we left Estes Park.

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Although it killed me to do so, we left on Saturday for the lake and Reilly couldn’t go this time. I have an amazing critter sitter who stays at my home and who is familiar with all of my animals, and they with her. The lakehouse was less than 4 hours away from home. If necessary, I was prepared to come home. But I sobbed as we left…

On Tuesday, my critter sitter called me. Reilly was down and wouldn’t or couldn’t get up. I had her take Reilly to see Don, and he called me later that afternoon. He advised me not to wait until Sunday to return home.

We arrived home around 8 PM. Reilly was lying on her side, with a respiratory rate of 60-80. With effort, she followed me from room to room, but she was not very interested in her surroundings.

Nothing had changed by Wednesday, and I knew she was not comfortable. Her rapid respirations were likely a result of increased intracranial pressure…. A colossal headache. My girl had not been herself for several weeks, and the most likely diagnosis was, in fact, a brain tumor.  

Don met me at his clinic on Wednesday afternoon, which happened to be July 4th. Ironically, it was 7 years to the day that Reilly had broken all four of her left rear toes when she jumped off a boat and caught her foot in a handle on the boat deck. I said goodbye to my girl that afternoon. Although I am writing this 2 weeks later, I am falling apart as I type… I miss her so, so much.

Yesterday I had to help a client’s old dog cross the Rainbow Bridge. It was a male dog… named Riley. I struggled to hold it together in the client’s presence, and for the most part, I did. But after he left, I wept.  

Multiple times a day, I find myself desperately missing Reilly. I don’t have to wait for her to move when I put down the foot section of my lounge chair. She’s not lying by my bed when I wake up. I’m not dispensing multiple medications throughout the day. She’s not walking backward in front of me when I walk the dogs, barking at me with a stick in her mouth. I don’t have to ask her to move so I can open my shower door.  

As she declined, she had ceased bugging me multiple times a day to play ball, or climbing the steps and dropping a ball down the stairs while shooting me an expectant look directing me to throw the ball back to her. I will never, ever hear thunder or experience a thunderstorm without thinking about Reilly, as she had major anxiety over loud noises. There are many, many more interactions I miss all day long.  

I have four other awesome dogs, and I am now taking one of them to work with me on a rotating basis. Reilly had always gone to work with me as she was too infirm to leave home alone all day. It is a good opportunity for some one-on-one with each dog, and I am enjoying it. They are doing their best to fill the void. But oh, how I miss my girl. Cherish your moments and memories with your horses, dogs, and cats. At some point, memories will be all you have.