Right smack dab in the midst of holiday festivities, Hedgie's three-day birthday celebration, playdates and present-giving and lunch at the American Girl Place in Manhattan, my nearly 15-year-old mutt Pippin is inconveniently winding down a long and varied life. Needless to say, I won't belabor the details, but it's unnerving and sad to see this once rowdy boy slipping away bit by bit. An emergency vet visit last week yielded some meds that temporarily alleviated things, but obviously there's something more serious going on.
I will be going back to his regular vet, but I don't believe in spending thousands and thousands of dollars, nor do I have this money, to prolong the discomfort of an old dog. I guess sometime soon a decision will have to be made, one that many of us have made before. It's always harrowing. I would have loved a few more years to kiss his smelly face and wipe away my tears in his soft brisket, and watch him swim and try to steal food, and bark at squirrels. I keep hoping I'll wake up and he'll be back to his old self, but so far, it hasn't happened. So I'm trying to prepare myself for goodbye. And I'm praying for the strength to make the right decision, not for me, but for him.