George

Our dog George is almost ten years old. He’s a fierce little guy. Fierce in loyalty, fierce in protection and fierce when it comes to minding what we tell him to do. He’s always eager to do three things; sleep, cuddle and eat. George is a miniature dachshund and weighs about 13 pounds but he’s always thought of himself as bigger, stronger and faster.
About 5 days ago something changed. George vomited and defecated several times that morning. It was obvious he wasn’t himself. He ended up staying in his little bed at the end of our couch the whole day. The next day was more of the same with George making the effort to go outside to potty with barely any results.
After several days of this with no signs that he was getting better, we decided to take him to the doctor. He was immediately admitted so they could perform a myriad of tests and x-rays to find out what was going on.
The diagnosis wasn’t good. George had calcified stones in his kidneys, bladder and penis as well as his stomach, blocking any waste from leaving his body the normal ways which was causing him to vomit. But that’s not the worst part. Because waste wasn’t leaving his body, toxins were building up inside of him and killing him off. The vet said that if we hadn’t brought George in when we did he would have been dead within 48 hours.
George was hooked to an IV to get fresh fluids in and a catheter to let the waste out, also to reduce the size of his extremely full bladder that was now bigger than his blocked stomach.
As I write this on my Blackberry it’s 5am and I’m on a chair next to his crate in our family room. George still has the catheter stitched into his body and one of those cones around his neck that dogs get to wear in just such occasions as this to prevent him from messing with the tube protruding from his little body.
You have to understand that George isn’t a whiner or a complainer. In fact, I would venture to say that he’s one of the most content dogs I’ve ever met. But tonight has been different. It’s obvious he is in tremendous pain and discomfort. He has spent most of the night whining with this sad, pathetic whine that I’ve never heard before. Now this may sound strange but his whine actually provided us some comfort as it let us know that he was still breathing. There was a chance he wouldn’t make it through the night so we appreciated this little sign that he was still with us.
At about 4am George intensified his protest against the way his body felt. The whining become sharp and very aggravated. I got out of bed, got dressed quickly and came out to see him. He didn’t wag his tail nor did he look happy at all. I could only describe his demeanor as pure agony and distress. I was thinking,”maybe this is it, maybe he won’t make it.” My appearance did nothing to relieve the stress that he was under but I could do nothing else than sit next to the door of his crate and talk to him, telling him everything was going to be okay. This seemed to aggravate him more. Oh, how he wants out of this pain and discomfort. To cuddle on the couch under a blanket where it’s nice and warm, or chase deer out of our backyard. Anything at all but this little hell on earth that he’s in.
But it turns out what he really wanted what was most of us wants, to just know someone is there, by our bedside when we’re not feeling good. After about 25 minutes of sitting by his side,George calmed down, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. His breathing became deep and steady and he was truly resting.
I’ve heard it said before when someone dies that they should rest in peace. But hey, they’re dead, their body has no choice but to rest. George, on the other hand was willing to rest just knowing that someone cared about him. That he wasn’t alone. That the almost 10 years he had spent with our family meant as much to us as it did to him. He wanted to know that we weren’t going to walk away from him in his hours of greatest need.
Well, we are here George and we’re not going anywhere. You’re our little boy, the son we never had, Ally’s little stinky brother. You’re hurting and you’re scared but as I sit by your side, rest in peace George, rest in peace. His surgery is scheduled for 8:30 this morning.