Wednesday, April 14, 2010

R.I.P. Petey Poo

On Monday, I had to make the hardest decision in my entire life. I had to give permission for the veterinarian to put Petey to sleep. My heart hurts so badly.

This nightmare started Sunday night. I had just put Gabriel to bed and was in Nathan’s room getting everything ready for the next day. I heard a “tumble” by the stairs and a whimper and went to see what was up. Petey was laying there on the landing of our steps, not moving at all. I ran down the stairs to pick him up and he didn’t even move. It seemed that his right back leg was hurt…he wouldn’t walk on it at all. I brought him outside to see if he would walk there, go to the bathroom, anything…nope. Inside, I brought his bed up to my room and laid it on him, hoping that he just bruised his leg and he’d be fine in the morning.
At about 5 a.m. I heard what I thought was a whimper and looked down on the floor to see Petey about 5 feet from his bed, but not moving. It looked like he tried to walk and couldn’t because it hurt, so he gave up and laid there where he was. When I woke up, I picked him up, and brought him outside to see if he had to go to the bathroom. To no avail, he didn’t go nor would he put any weight on his back right leg. I dropped the kids off to school and went straight to the vet.

The doctor said that she wouldn’t know what was wrong until they took x-rays and got a better look. At 9:30 I received the call that Petey dislocated his hip, and of course not in a “traditional” way, but in a way that they would try to relocate it but they couldn’t splint or bandage it. I didn’t know what to say at this point. I was told that the relocation might not even stay – his hip could dislocate again which means more pain and an unsuccessful treatment including general sedation and 2 weeks of fully drugged out “rest”. I was all alone – Rich was out of town on business and my parents were visiting my sister in CT. Great….

Finally, after speaking to my parents, friends and another vet, I gained the strength to call the veterinarian and explain Petey’s current quality of life and my decision. Poor Petey was deaf, getting cataracts, a bit incontinent, would snap at people, and hadn’t wagged his tail in over a year. He was still sweet with Rich and I…our little peter peter pumpkin eater. The vet offered to keep him over night and have me think it over, but I told her it would just make me miserable until the next morning when I would most likely call with the same decision.
At 3:30 pm I called Rich and asked him to tell me if it was the right decision…he agreed, and I cried. I called the vet at 3:45 pm and she said she was going to do it as soon as she got off of the phone. It was so finite. So cold. I guess there was no other way to say it. I cried, I cried a lot…how terrible. I felt as if I took a life…no one should have the power to do this. I know he was in pain and had no quality of life…I just feel so terrible.

Robyn and Keren took me out to get my mind off of things…it did help a lot. I came home to a quiet home, and tried to get to bed as soon as I could to keep thoughts out of my mind.
I was ok yesterday, but the mail today brought more than my Redbook magazine. I received a package from the veterinarian. It contained a sympathy card signed by the vet and some other vet techs, a picture of Petey from that day, and a paw print of Petey’s. I lost it. That picture was taken on Monday, the day I left Petey at the vet. He looks like he was smiling in the picture – sitting on a wicker chair, hanging out. He looked happy, not in pain…why did they include the picture???? I stared at the picture and internally berated myself. What if I made the wrong decision? I should have just gone through with the surgery…right? I gave up on him too fast…I let him down…I left him there and let them euthanize him. I didn’t say goodbye, I couldn’t. I am unfit as a pet owner. I brought Sadie into the house and he became even more miserable. Did I shut him out?

But he was in pain. He didn’t seem happy. He wasn’t the Petey I used to know. He was 13 and an older dog. He didn’t have the “spring up his ass” like he used to.
I love you Petey. I hope I did you right…I wish you could have told me how you felt. I hope you know that I love you and that I really believe I did what was best.