Parker C. Sheltie 2002-2012

Parker passed away on Saturday night. It’s very hard to talk about (but also feels strangely comforting to talk about) but I did want to share this, because I truly believe it is a blessing….

We did one shot of chemo this past Wednesday. Within a day we noticed Parker was getting some feeling back in his hindquarters. By Friday he was completely using the bathroom outside again which we thought was such a good sign. And I’m sure made him happy not to wear that stupid diaper anymore. By Friday night his appetite started decreasing some & his belly seemed a little swollen but he was overall in such better spirits that we wrote it off as the chemo making him nauseous. On Saturday we took the girls to the aquarium & then came home & grilled steaks in afternoon. Parker gladly ate a good bit, we even got a few sheltie spins out of him. After dinner we took the girls to get ice-cream & when we pulled in the driveway we saw Parker run to the door & start barking at us through the window. I commented to P on how nice it was to see him acting like an a-hole again.

Later that night I gave him his meds but then couldn’t get him to eat any food with them. It’s really important with his medications to take them with food or they’ll make him sick. Since his stomach had already been such a wreck I started getting nervous that the medicine on an empty stomach could make him get sick all night. I turned to Facebook for suggestions from you guys & finally sent P out to get the dog a hamburger & fries. He took a couple of nibbles & refused anymore. I don’t remember exactly why but P & I got in an argument. I started crying, acting like an emotional wreck & finally just cried that the last several months have been too much. It’s too much pressure, too much responsibility…my whole world felt so out of control & I couldn’t take it anymore. The “fight” (more like my meltdown & P just taking it & apologizing for what, he probably had no idea) ended because we were both too tired to keep at it. Not 15 minutes later Parker started doing the doggie gagging thing. I guided him off the livingroom rug & onto the wood floor where the hamburger made it’s re-appearance. I kept my hands on him rubbing his back until he seemed to be done. I asked P to keep an eye on him while I grabbed the paper towels because for whatever reason our dogs tend to throw up again, and do so on the carpet, while we’re cleaning up the first mess. I came back to the livingroom, stepped over our sleeping golden retriever, & started to clean up the throw-up when Parker took a few steps across the livingroom towards P who was sitting in an armchair on the other end of the room. We both watched to see if he was going to gag again but instead he just fell over in mid-step. One of us gasped, I’m not sure who. I leapt over to him & put my hands on him. He was clearly having a seizure. I remember yelling to Peter, “He’s having a seizure! What do we do?! What do we do?!” I cried for Peter to call the vet but somehow he knew this wasn’t going to be something Parker would recover from so he sat there. I cried out “he’s dying!” & within what felt like one second, he was gone. He died right there, in my hands. I swear I saw the second in his eyes where the life left. I stood up, took a few steps backwards & turned my back towards Parker. I never wanted to see what my sweet dog looked like again now that I knew he was gone. Peter came over & grabbed me & I sobbed in his arms. I ran to the bathroom & threw up. I cried a while longer & then got a grip enough to call the vet hospital to ask what we should do next, they said to bring him & they could return his ashes to us.

What happened over the next hour was actually quite beautiful in a terrible way.

I desperately did not want anything to do with the things that needed to be done next & without any words my wonderfully strong, amazing husband took care of it all. He found a blanket for Parker (it was actually a pink sheet which made me laugh a bit because we always joked about what a pretty man Parker was) wrapped him in it & placed him in the back of the car. All the while I stayed in the bathroom with Lucy, our golden retriever, & the door shut. He came back in, let me know he was leaving & told me to go upstairs, he would take care of it all. And he did. After what must have been a horrible car ride (he later told me he had no idea what music to play, I think he settled on a random 70’s show) he took care of all of the arrangements for Parker’s body. He then came home, cleaned up the mess that things leave when they die, rolled up the livingroom room rug & took it outside. (I had said in my hysteria that we had to get rid of the rug, I couldn’t stand to ever see the place he died on again)

While he was gone I thought to myself, “My gosh Natasha, what more could you ever want in a partner? When times are terrible THIS is what you need. HE is what I need. What a wonderful, selfless, loving man you have. Who the hell cares that he throws his dirty clothes on the floor or forgets to do the things you ask. Someone has to do the horrible things like take care of the dead family dog’s body & he did it. He volunteered. The rest doesn’t matter. THIS is what a marriage is. ” This is a good, strong man. One who I also know is very upset about what just happened to a piece of our family but with his quiet strength I realized that yes, I may lead by taking care of the everyday family responsibilities but this man is our true rock. When I was shaken to my core he held me up. He is our foundation and I am very very lucky.

The days that followed have been harder than I prepared myself to be. Yesterday I found myself randomly feeling like I was sucker punched in the gut & would just start sobbing. I think the most I went without crying was an hour. I didn’t expect to feel so heart-broken. To actually grieve. I kept thinking, “My goodness, he was just a dog! People’s children are dying of cancer & you can’t keep from breaking into tears when you look out the window & see his favorite bush to pee on?! Get a grip!” I shared this with P at one point & he told me “No, it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to be devastated. You loved him & he was a part of our family. Let yourself be ok with how sad you really are.”

So I did.

I bawled my eyes out all day yesterday & today, today I actually woke up feeling a little less wounded. No more tears. (Until I had to dig up the picture for this post. But I love that picture, it signifies a great memory between he & I) Yesterday & today have been some of the sunniest, most beautiful weather days we’ve had this year & today I woke up feeling like for the first time in a long time it was all going to be ok. I woke up feeling relief. I took the girls to the zoo & we looked at all the amazing animals God has placed on this Earth. I had the thought that Parker was no different, he was a beautiful creation of God’s that I like to think he made just for me. A true gift, for 10 great years.

When I reflect on what happened this weekend I know that it really was a merciful act of God. He knew our little family & our little dog could not bear this weight anymore. He truly does not give you more than you can bear. Remember last week how I was saying I was so struggling with the decision as to when to put Parker to sleep? I really didn’t think I could ever make that choice & I believe God knew that, & showed me mercy. He took Parker so quickly & I believe, painlessly. My beautiful, wonderful dog left this world with grace & surrounded by everyone who loved him. His mom, his dad & his sister Lucy. All right there with him. And for us there were no drawn out decisions & our girls knew nothing of it. I can’t ask for more than that.

We told Sam in the morning that Parker had died last night & she said “Ok.” She had far more questions about where the rug went. I guess 3 is too young to know which once again, I see as a blessing. If chemo had worked & he had lived another year I’m sure this would’ve been harder for her.

Thank you all for your loving comments & emails. If you want to leave a positive note than by all means do so but please no more apologies for our grief or messages of sadness. I read them all & truly appreciated hearing your stories, at the time they helped greatly but now I want to heal & move on. I don’t want to dwell on the sadness. I just want to focus on my new found respect & appreciation for my family & move on with the lessons I’ve learned.

Sorry for not posting yesterday. The last 5 days have been such a blur.

We brought Parker home yesterday. He has lymphoma in his liver, lymph node & possibly spinal cord. The vet called & told me while I was in the toy aisle at Target, needless to say we came home with way more princess paraphernalia than I ever would’ve gone for.

I don’t know how to write about this yet. Normally when I’m carrying an emotional burden the words practically type themselves. It just flows & I feel somewhat relieved but this sadness is too heavy. Yes, heavy. Like a weight on your chest that pulls on you all day until you finally give in to it & just sit down.

I’d stick to just giving the facts but I don’t even know what those are at this point.

One phone call it’s, “Hey, looks like he’s got kidney disease, probably only a few weeks to live.”

Then the next morning it’s a different Dr. & she thinks, “Well, he actually has a raging UTI, maybe this could be causing all of his problems and a stiff round of antibiotics will get him back on track.”

Then the next day, “Actually I think he probably has cancer, we should do a biopsy.”

Later that afternoon, “You know, a bunch of us talked and we’re thinking maybe not cancer at all, looks like liver disease. Which we can treat”

Then yesterday’s Target call of “Nope, it’s definitely Lymphoma. So sorry.”

At that point Peter & I had the hard conversation about whether or not to put our 10 year dog through canine chemo. We had almost definitely decided ‘no’ when I got a phone call from our friend who’s been an amazing support through all of this, (He’s a veterinary surgeon) & he gave us some really encouraging information about Lymphoma & why he thinks Parker has a really good shot at regaining his previous quality of life for a year, maybe even two, if we do a round of chemotherapy. We quickly decided yes, we can make a few sacrifices of things we wanted to do & instead would put our dog through chemo. I went to bed somewhat at peace knowing we had reason to keep trying but if it didn’t work we had done what we could.

I called the vet last night & then a few more times this morning trying to get Parker in for his first round of chemo today. No return calls. Finally at 1pm a very pissed off Natasha called again & left a bit firmer of a voicemail for the vet. She called back & explained that she was a bit surprised we had changed our minds about treating Parker because the odds of a dog with cancer in his liver recuperating from chemotherapy were slim. She said maybe 3 months tops.

Seriously?

I mean, SERIOUSLY!?

I have had the “Ok, you’re dog’s going to die” phone call THREE times in the last 5 days only to have it almost immediately replaced with an “Actually I think we can help him” phone call not even 24 hours later. I am so sick & tired of getting my hopes up only to have them come crashing down again & again.

I don’t know what to do. He’s my little buddy. My man. Parker is my dog who’s gone with me from shitty college apartment to slightly better first job condo to living with boyfriends & then back on our own. He was there when I got married & there when we brought Sam & then Sophie home from the hospital. We brought home the baby hats so he could become familiar with the new little person coming into our family but P & I knew we didn’t have to worry about him. He’s a sheepdog & without hesitation has always regarded all of us as his flock.He protects us from the UPS man & single handedly monitors the squirrel population in our backyard.

He laid next to me through post pardom depression & without a shred of resentment took his place as a second class citizen in our home when we become too busy for our dogs.

A wagging tail & a sheltie spin can always be expected when I walk in the door.

If I’m feeling lonely or down a little whistle & he’s right there, more than happy to break the rules & cuddle with me on the couch.

And now it’s my responsibility to do what’s best for him.

How do I ever begin to decide what’s worth trying & what’s too much for him. If chemo doesn’t work do I have him put too sleep while he’s still relatively happy or do I wait until the cancer takes over his body organ by organ? He can’t tell me when he’s too tired or has had enough. I try to judge by how much or little his eyes light up when I call his name but I’m still not sure. How do I know it’s not just a bad day & he’ll be happy tomorrow that he’s still alive? These are God decisions. Not me decisions. And yet I have no choice.

I guess this is being a grown-up huh?

Last night Sam, completely on her own, lay down next to Parker & asked me to get the camera & take a picture of the two of them. Could she somehow know something I don’t?Then I caught Sophie last night taking off her one sock & sticking her bare foot in Parker’s face because she knows he’ll always lick her toes. Just like he’s been doing since she was a little baby.So for now I’m changing his diaper every few hours since he has no bladder or anal control. I’m wiping his butt when it leaks & feeding him his food by hand. He’s basically become the 3rd baby in the house. I’m rubbing him till he falls asleep & find myself torn whether I hope Jesus will take him while he’s comfortable in my arms or keep him breathing just one more day.

I didn’t think I’d feel this way when our dogs were going to die. Don’t get my wrong, I love them desperately but with two little kids to care for the dogs often have become yet another creature to care for. Another mouth to feed & responsibility to remember despite an overly filled brain. I’ve even found myself angry when they’ve thrown up on the carpet when I’m trying to get the kids out the door, or barked & woken Sophie out of a much needed nap. I’ve thought, “STUPID STUPID DOG! I WISH WE COULD JUST GET RID OF YOU!” I don’t mean it of course…mostly. Now however all I feel is an enormous amount of guilt for not appreciating what a blessing he’s been in my life & how desperately I’m going to miss him. Stupid dog.

skinny leggings:target, cardigan:American Apparel, shirt:Crewcuts, shoes:DIY pedicure crocs, sunglasses:freebie from My Eye Doctor

What a hambone huh?

Can’t imagine where she gets it.