Heartbreak On Christmas Eve

We lost this dear, sweet old boy on Christmas Eve. Even now, almost two weeks later, it seems hard to believe.

He had arrived in early November as a hospice case — he was in kidney failure and had cancer. Tommy immediately stole our hearts. He was just adorable … so loving and affectionate, and full of personality. He was one of the sweetest dogs we had ever taken in.

Since arriving, he had been pretty stable medically. In fact, the week before Christmas he had seen our veterinary surgeon about removing a large non-cancerous growth on a rear foot that affected his ability to walk. The surgeon thought we might be able to do more for him than that (like possibly removing the large cancerous growth on his right shoulder). Because of his kidney failure, anesthesia was always a risk, and his heart murmur also complicated things, so we’d need to proceed carefully (with a follow-up heart evaluation prior to any surgery). At that point, we thought Tommy was holding his own.

But late morning on Christmas Eve, we noticed Tommy had suddenly developed labored, slurpy breathing. I called BEVS, our veterinary emergency and specialty hospital, they put me on the ER incoming schedule, and we loaded him into the truck for the 2.5 hour trip to Burlington.

Once there, the ER team immediately put him into an oxygen chamber. They would take him out from time to time to run tests, including chest x-rays. That’s when we learned his lungs were filling up with fluid, and his heart had also become enlarged, now struggling with the additional workload. His blood work (and kidney values) had significantly deteriorated from the blood panel we’d just run the previous week.

Ominously, the blood work suggested that the fluid filling his lungs might be blood … or he was bleeding internally somewhere else. Any possible treatment would worsen the other condition. In other words, we had multiple medical issues whose treatments would be at cross-purposes with the others (i.e., trying to reduce the fluid could worsen his kidney and heart conditions). It was a perfect storm medically.

Tommy was so stressed at being in the oxygen chamber that the ER team had to lightly sedate him to calm him down. Once out of the oxygen chamber, though, it was harder for him to breathe.

I was there for several hours, until late evening, while we waited for more tests to be run and to evaluate him further.

The ER vet who was Tommy’s doctor on Christmas Eve was absolutely wonderful. She was kind, and compassionate, and took the time to walk me through all the test results, what they meant for Tommy, and what our options were. In the end, she helped me realize we really didn’t have any good options for him, and that we needed to make that most painful of decisions … to let him go.

Periodically I’d call Alayne with the latest update, but that last phone call — to decide on euthanasia — was a really difficult and emotional one.

They brought Tommy back out to the exam room so I could be with him for a while before the euthanasia. I could tell from how hard he was breathing, and how much effort it was taking, that we really could do only one thing for him. We did not want him to suffer.

It was clear from Tommy’s overall medical condition when he arrived that he probably never had any veterinary care in his life. His left front leg was askew from a long-ago injury, his left rear foot had that weird growth that interfered with his gait, he had a cancerous tumor the size of a large lemon on his right shoulder, his mouth was full of rotting teeth, and his kidneys had been failing for a long time. So whoever had Tommy before us had done little to nothing for him.

By the time he came to us — who could do anything for him — it was too late. That’s what really hurts the most — knowing what we might have been able to do for him, if only we’d gotten him sooner.

I finally made it back late on Christmas Eve, with a tearful Alayne waiting at home. The dogs were subdued as well, as if they knew something sad had happened. They always seem to know.

For Tommy, we loved him until the end. We didn’t have him long, but we will always cherish the moments we had with him.

We’re grateful to all those who helped him along the way – Kay who cared for him at the shelter as a volunteer, Karen who fostered him until he could get to us, and Amber, who asked if we could take him. For Tommy and for us, thank you.