|Bella-Wella, Sweet Girl|
|Bella-Wella modeling one of the kid's old t-shirts.|
|Bella-Wella, the day of her surgery.|
When we went to pick her up that evening, she had been on IV fluids all day. They prescribed her a stronger antibiotic, told us to stop the anti-inflammatory and put her on a steroid. Basically, they had no idea why her back legs weren't working and were hoping that there was some inflammation somewhere that would be corrected with the steroids. We had to help her walk by using a towel as a sling to lift up her back end.
Over the next four days we helped her go to the bathroom, rolled her over from side-to-side and exercised her legs, all the while praying for a miracle. By day two, I knew the steroids weren't going to work. We were still waiting for the lab results from the mass they had removed.
Tuesday afternoon we finally got the news that the mass was cancerous. While it was considered "low grade" the reality was that it would most likely pop up again, either in the same spot or somewhere else. The fact was we didn't know if it wasn't already somewhere else. She could have already been riddled with it.
Early that evening we were outside watching the kids play and letting Bella get some fresh air in the backyard when she started vomiting. That's when we knew we couldn't let her keep going in the condition she was in. We called the vet, who luckily was still there, and they said we could bring her in right away if we wanted to.
If we wanted to.
Of course we didn't want, to, but we had to. I wanted to be there with her but had to stay home with the kids. The older kids were devastated and I couldn't leave them like that. I didn't want her to be alone and hubs promised he would stay with her until it was over.
|Bella Wella in the car before hubs took her to|
the vet for the last time.
But my compassion and love for Bella is what made me finally say enough is enough. We had the power to end her suffering before it got any worse. The wound is still too raw to say that I get comfort from knowing she is no longer in pain, but I know that day will come. I hope that day will come.
Until then, I will cry and grieve and feel mad at the vet for not catching it earlier, and at myself for not questioning everything more than I did. I will focus all my love for her and add it to the love I have for our other dog, Dixie. I will learn from this and do things differently, should I ever find myself in a similar situation.
To Bella I say this:
You were such a sweet, special puppy. You touched our lives in ways you will never know, and ways we didn't realize until it was too late. You will forever hold a place in our hearts as our first family dog. You will never be forgotten. I hope that wherever you are now, you are no longer in pain and you are running around just like that optimistic, energetic, ever hopeful puppy you always were. Sweet dreams, sweet girl.
|Me and Bella Wella.|