Friday night my Earle wouldn't eat. He seemed otherwise well and he had a healthy fat reserve on him. I wasn't terribly concerned. Sunday evening, I brought him in the house. He was a bit listless and still not hungry, but not showing any other problems. My vet has an evening clinic on Mondays; I planned to take him there.
At 11pm Sunday night, he got up, spun in a circle and fell over on his dog bed, unable to get back up on his own. Woke my vet up and rushed him to her clinic. He could not walk on his own, x-rays showed nothing significant except his liver looked a bit big, blood work only an elevated white blood cell count. Fluids, antibiotics, valium...all the things he needed to be comfortable overnight were provided.
This morning all those fluids were collected in his abdomen. Off to the other clinic in town for an ultrasound which showed tumours in his liver and spleen. I brought Earle home after the test. He spent the afternoon and evening on his favorite blanket in the living room, surrounded by his friends...human, canine and feline. Everyone loved Earle. He didn't move for hours. He would respond to his name, to touch, even drank a bit of water, but he would not get up, didn't even change positions on his bed.
After much discussion with our vet, we decided the kindest thing to do was to release Earle from his failing body...no more tests, no more medications, no spending days hooked up to IVs in a strange place. Our vet came to the house at 9pm and helped our boy on his way.
Earle was the best dog ever, the most stable temperment I've ever seen, calm, sweet, gentle, the dog I could take anywhere anytime without any worries. He was from the moment I met him at 3 weeks old to the moment of his death 12 years later, a good boy, the best dog ever. It was an honour and a blessing to share his life. I will miss him for the rest of mine.
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