Late last night, after we had our night-time walk – and Yoda was hopping at his usual brisk pace, making me jog to keep up – and not long after I had gone to bed, Yoda started hacking, like he was trying to cough something up.  I got up to check on him.  He didn't cough anything up.

Some of you may remember that a few weeks ago he had coughed up blood and gone in for an emergency visit.  He made a remarkable rebound from that (the assumption is a lung met had ruptured).  The oncologist had thought he might not make it through that weekend, but he recovered well except for a set-back with nausea and some loss of appetite, but just last Thursday he caught a rabbit!  So his quality of life really shot back up there for much of his last few weeks.

He coughed 6 or 7 times throughout the night, and I was starting to get that, even though there was no blood, this must be serious because he couldn't cough laying down, he had to get up every time and it really sounded like he was struggling to try to cough up something, but never did.  So I got up early finally and got all ready for work, called the emergency line for the UW Vet school where Yoda had been treated, and got him in, in the hope that they could check him out and take care of him until I could get back from work.  (Fortunately, my new boss turned out to be very understanding and using a floating holiday last-minute for this emergency was not a problem with her, even though I'm still in my two-week training period.  So I only had to leave him for a couple of hours). 

When I arrived with him at the Vet School, he was too weak to get up, even though he had hopped right into the car for me.  His gums were very pale, so I suspected that even though he hadn't coughed up any blood, that this might again be a ruptured lung met situation.  Either a student or a vet tech carried him in.  I was going to do it myself, but she offered and I figured she was trained to do so.  Then he had to be put on a cart and wheeled back and I waited in a waiting room.

The vet on that night came back after a while to tell me know how he was doing.  He was "kind of shocky" (so not fully in shock, I guess, or she was trying to cushion the blow) from blood loss.  So he was being given fluids, oxygen, and pain killers.  So the situation was clearly very serious, but she told me that hopefully the the fluids and painkillers would soon make him more comfortable and I - and my Mom who came by for support - could see him.  She felt it was reasonable for me to go to work and give the fluids, etc. a chance to help in the meantime and then talk about options with Yoda's oncologist, who would be in in an hour or so.  Though it was possible, that Yoda could need a tranfusion before I got back, in which case they would call me immediately to make that decision.

He did seem to be doing okay, when I saw him.  Clearly he was weak and breathing still wasn't easy, but the painkillers seemed to be working just fine, though he was a bit groany.  He was pretty alert considering.

So, let's see, I went to work.  Got an update from the oncologist while I was there.  Not much had changed.  I don't remember the details she read me, but the interpretation was that it seemed he was still losing blood fast, but did not yet require a transfusion.  He did go out to pee, but couldn't make it back inside and had to be carried.  I was able to let her know at that point that I would be able to come back in an hour or so, so there really wasn't that much to that update, except that Yoda was probably going to be okay until I got back.

My dad was able to be there for support when I returned.  The oncologist explained that if he made it through this rupture, he could have another at anytime, though that was true before.  If he had a transfusion, which would have been very tough financially, that could buy him some time, but it could also be a waste and he could just continue to bleed out the new blood.  They could have done everything necessary to make him comfortable and I could have taken him home to take our chances, which some people opt to do, to let their dogs be home where they're psychologically more comfortable, but that would risk him becoming very serious very quickly and he could end up passing in a very stressful/painful manner before or while trying to get him back to the hospital.  She explained all this to me a lot longer than I really needed her to, but I couldn't get the words out.  In fact, I finally said something like, "making the decision isn't hard, but saying it is," and she understood that I meant I was convinced that it was time to help Yoda go.

She then brought Yoda in to spend some time alone with me and my dad and she made it clear that it was perfectly alright if after spending time with him that I felt I needed to change my mind.  They had to bring him in on a sort of wagon because he was too weak to walk.  We were in a special room for breaking bad news and spending time with terminal pets.  I had been in there the last time Yoda had a ruptured lung met.  It has couches and stuff.  So she put Yoda on the couch next to me and I talked to him a little, but mostly just petted and massaged him for the 15 minutes or so.  It was clear he was very weak and his breathing was still labored, so I was reassured that I had made the right call as I had never seen him this low before.  He has had several setbacks, especially recently, so that is saying something.

I had the option of taking as much time as I needed with him, but since the choice was clear and he was clearly not okay, I didn't prolong it.  The oncologist performed it herself there on the couch.  He didn't convulse, which was a bit of a relief.  My last dog did when she was euthanized and that was difficult.  However, when he was moved back from the couch to the cart, quite a lot of blood leaked out of his nose and splattered onto the couch and floor.  I thought at first maybe it was just some blood from the catheter.  I guess I was in a daze and my dad and the oncologist told me that it had been from his nose.  Strangely, the sight of it didn't bother me much.  I guess I got it that he was gone and could see it as further reassurance that I made the right choice.  The oncologist said something to that effect, that it confirmed that he had quite a lot of blood in his lungs.

So I've done some crying, but I don't think it has fully set in yet.  I was able to do some cleaning, including getting his stuff together for storage for a future dog and/or to give away to friends'/family's dogs.  I'm a little surprised that I wanted to do it and that it didn't upset me much, but I'm just going with it.  It felt right.  Both my parents hung out with me on and off today.  It has been hard when I catch myself anticipating Yoda's presence.  For example, I was emptying garbage cans and was getting ready to take the garbage out the garage and, out of habit, my body automatically prepared for Yoda to try to zip through that narrow doorway with me and/or try to sniff the bags.  I also kept noticing that I was still being careful not to leave things in Yoda's reach that he might try to chew on later.  I feel anxious not giving him his pills at the scheduled times and weird about not going for our walks.

At some point, I'll probably come up with something to say in tribute to Yoda's life.  Not ready for that just now.

Thanks for being here everybody, especially Jim and Rene for getting this site started.  Jerry's story was a critical help in my decision to go with amputation after Yoda was first diagnosed.  When he was diagnosed, in late May, his regular vets told me he probably had 2-4 months just trying to get by with managing his pain, if I didn't prefer to go with euthanasia yet.  Instead, Yoda got 4 months of pain-free walking, running, jumping, playing ball, playing chase, tail chasing, stuffed toy shredding, rodent hunting, and lots and lots of food and treat taste-testing.  THANK YOU!  Being able to give him all that back in these last few months made helping him go when he needed to today so much easier to accept.