November 3rd 2012 11:39 am
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It was four years ago when I made my journey. Mom had taken me into the vet because I was suddenly wanting to be by myself, sleeping in the hall closet next to the radiator, and she thought my breathing was a bit wheezy. The vet listened to my lungs and said they sounded clear, then left to get the X-ray room ready for me. Suddenly I started gasping for breath, and Mom stuck her head out of the exam room and yelled for help. They came running with an oxygen tank and a little tube that they held under my nose. After a while I was able to breathe again and calmed down.
The X-ray showed that the lungs were clear, but the doctor thought he saw a shadow along my esophagus -- maybe a tumor?
It was Saturday, and the vet's office was closing. He didn't think it was advisable to keep me there or to send me home. So Mom took me to a 24-hour vet hospital where someone would be monitoring me all the time. The doctor there suspected asthma and gave me steroids, which helped me. In the morning, she told Mom I could go home with asthma medication.
But when Mom arrived, the doctor came out to say that I had suffered another grand mal seizure and that she knew then that asthma was not my problem. She, too, suspected a tumor. What to do, what to do? The doctor said I could be transferred to another vet hospital for a CT scan, but I would have to be transferred under oxygen. While we were discussing all this, a technician came out to tell the doctor that I was having another seizure.
When that was under control, Mom was allowed to come in and see me. I reached out a paw to her and told her with my eyes that I did not want to see another doctor. I wanted to rest. With tears in her eyes, she told the doctor that she wanted to help me to the Bridge. The doctor nodded, and said she thought that might be the best they could do for me.
My Dad and Mom were both there with me, and I passed gently. Mom buried me in the back yard, near a pretty tree. It was a day much like today. Chilly but bright, with leaves the same color as me floating down from the trees.
She misses me still, I know, but I am healthy and safe here, and will see her again one day.