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Archive for May 21st, 2013

Chloe-looking 001-01

Chloe: 1998 – 2013

As you all may recall, I said last week I would be absent for a bit due to a family illness.  The illness was with my furbaby Chloe and she crossed the Rainbow Bridge last Wednesday.  She was having issues with her liver and I’m not exactly sure what they were.  But they had tried some meds on her and had done a trial of a medicine with her when working with a change of foods didn’t yield any satisfactory results.  She had been at the vet’s office for some time and they called me on the 10th of May to tell me she wasn’t eating and was drinking very little.  I dropped everything and went up there and my girl really didn’t look too good.  She perked up some with me but wasn’t her old self so I decided along with the vet to wait over the weekend to see how she did.  When I went there Monday I had bought a package of sliced American cheese and brought that in with me.  Chloe and I, along with one of the techs were in one of the exam rooms.  I was holding Chloe on the table while the tech opened up the cheese.  That’s all it took!  Man, she went after that cheese like I don’t know what!  The tech had just said she wasn’t eating, but she wolfed down that slice of cheese and continued as fast as the tech (I’m doing a brain-fart on her name right now!) could unwrap those slices.  The tech looked at me and said “Well she’s not eating any of our food!”  We both laughed about it because Chloe had eaten five slices of the cheese.

But it didn’t last.

I was really hoping it might, that by some miracle or such, that sliced American cheese might be the magic elixir to cure old dogs with liver problems.  But it wasn’t.  When I went by the next day, Tuesday, she was back to her very lethargic manner.  When I held her she would just sort of moan or groan.  It didn’t sound like a “hurting” moan but maybe one that was saying “I’m tired.”  She wasn’t eating again and they had had to give her some fluids since she wasn’t drinking much water either.  So I made a decision, with the concurrence of the two vets, that we would send her across the bridge.  I could not do it that day, but said I’d be back the next day, Wednesday, to do what I hoped was the best thing for her.

I got there the next day at around 12:30 because they told me to come between noon and 2: p.m. when they were normally closed for lunch and to do surgeries.  I had a small, miniature quilt which we sometimes put in her bed to cover up with.  I wrapped that around her, put her on the table (after getting some doggie kisses) and we “talked” for a good while.  I told her how much I loved her and was going to miss her.  We talked about the time she “treed” a possum in the back yard which scared me sh!tless when I heard her barking out there that night and it was a “different” bark.  She had the possum backing up toward our fence and she was on the advance.  When I looked at the possum all I saw were teeth and claws and freaked out!  I grabbed her little doxie butt and threw her in the house and went back and turned the hose on the possum.  We talked about “mommy” and “daddy” and I said I hoped she got to see them and give them lots of doggie kisses all over their faces.  I told her how mad she made me with her separation anxiety when she was left alone and took out her vengeance on the kitchen trash can when I had to take the Momster to the doctor.  I told her how she made me chuckle to myself sometimes in the morning, when I got up at 4:30 or 5 for work.  I would go in and pour a cup of coffee, head to the table with it and turn on the tube to catch the news.  Chloe was literally bundled up under any number of towels and such, into a ball that you could just barely make out to be something underneath there.  I would hear a rustling sound and look over.  Soon enough there would be a head that poked out, looked at me as if “oh it’s you” and then just disappear under all of those covers.  Chloe was not an early riser.

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