The View from 58-inches High

I totally meant to write my thoughts down the night we said goodbye. I hate how life pulls at you sometimes when you least need it. I ended up working late Tuesday and Wednesday night. It upsets me that I wasn’t able to take the time when he was closest to my heart. I’m just now at a point that I can think of him and not break out crying. In some ways, that makes me more sad.

It’s been a while since I gave an update on the situation so I suppose I should take a moment to recap Fozzy’s last weeks with us. The two weeks after the surgery were horrific. Knowing what I know now, I probably would not have put him through it. He adapted very well to being on three legs. The problem was that the stump itself was extremely painful. The vet thought the swelling might have tweaked a nerve or something. Bottom line, if anything touched his stump he would squeal and writhe in pain for up to 5-minutes. For a time I hated myself for doing this to him.

At two weeks, we took him back to get his sutures taken out. When we picked him up, he was a brand new dog. The stump didn’t hurt anymore and he was better about getting around because he wasn’t as scared of falling. He did have huge problems getting traction on the floor and eventually we resigned ourselves to making him wear a bootie.

Just about the time we got the diagnosis Fozzy started to lose energy again. He would get into bed and not want to move. We wondered if it was time and were very frustrated that it had been 3-weeks since the surgery and we still had no idea what his prognosis was.

When we got the diagnosis of osteosarcoma a few weeks later it was devastating. We took him to our vet instead of the specialist to get his opinion of the splenetic tumor and talk about what his last week’s would be like. Our vet suspected part of his lethargy was due to arthritis and put him on an NSAID. We saw a huge difference immediately. It was great to see our hoppy puppy again. He would even hop around the dinner table, pacing for food like he used to. It was fantastic. For a few weeks, I felt relief that I would have him for a little bit longer.

Then, just like that, something changed. Fozzy stopped wanting to move around. He was obviously in pain but we didn’t know what was wrong. He had lost a ton of weight and we were supplementing his meals with peanut butter sandwiches. We thought maybe it was just his arthritis again but increasing his NSAID dose did nothing. His leg would shake when he stood and he would fall sometimes. He was also having a very difficult time using the restroom. It was only three bad days but we knew. He would give us this look whenever he had to get out of bed and we just knew he needed it to end.

As sad as I am, I am so thankful for the last days I was able to spend saying goodbye. Fozzy loved being near us more than anything in the worlds so we setup a little sitting area out of pillows and we would read or do work right next to him so he could get as much petting and love as possible.

The next two days the house just felt empty. My heart ached and I had a constant feeling as if I was missing something. When MacKenzie died, I cried because I felt helpless and guilty. I thought I would never love Fozzy as much as I loved her. She was such a personality. I was so surprised to find that Fozzy blossomed and filled our whole house. Now that presence is gone and I find that I have a hard time believing I’ll every love Bennett like I loved Fozzy. Maybe, but maybe I’ll be surprised.