For as long as I can remember, I've been told stories about my older sister. Her name is Brandy and they say we're a lot like each other. We're both cute, we like running as fast as we can, playing with toys, going out, and getting treats. Too bad she already went to doggie heaven a few months before I met her. We could have played all day and then I wouldn't be sad when my human goes to work She wrote about my sister on her blog, I'll put it here so you guys will know her story-
It would have been really cool to have met her.
It's been more than two months since you've gone on and I can't say I've moved on already. We have a new dog in the house and his name is Bugsy, he's quite the rascal but I bet you'd have liked his company. You'd have enjoyed having someone to play with that's just as hyperactive as you were. It would have been a riot.
I miss you, puppy dearest. Today I was just thinking of your last days on earth. That night, when I arrived at the clinic where you were confined, you mustered up enough energy to stand up when you saw me, wagging your little tail weakly, surprising the vet because you had not stood up willingly for them during the day.
You liked fishies!The people at the clinic said you stayed curled up in the corner of the cage, not paying them any mind even when they were trying to comfort you, completely ignoring the food that you used to gobble up in minutes not two days before. You were weak, the dextrose was your only lifeline. But you stood up and wagged your tail for me, silently telling me that you didn't want to be there.
I scooped you in my arms, carefully working around the needle on your small leg. We stayed in that position for a long while and I was stroking your head, your back, your little paws, whispering that you'll be better.
And then I needed to leave because they were closing, to my surprise, you pushed your weak body as hard as you could to that nook of my arm you loved burying your nose into whenever you were on my lap. Without words, you told me not to leave you in that dark cold room for the night, alone and in pain. But I did. I went home and thought leaving you there would be for the best. There were people who could monitor how you were doing in the middle of the night and call for the vet in case anything drastic happened.
You had such a cheeful face :)You had your first seizure right before I left, in the cage. I panicked and frantically asked the vet what should be done. He calmly said that seizures would really happen because of the malfunction in your kidney. I was ignorant and didn't press on for further action because you seem to have calmed down after a while and the vet seemed sure that it was a normal reaction and we should just let it pass.I left you there in the hopes that you would get better and that they can take care of you better than I could. I tossed and turned that night, worrying about what might happen during the dark of the night. Warning bells were clanging in my head, telling me that there was something amiss.
Always curiousThe next morning, I called the clinic right when they opened so I can ask about how you were. I was horrified when they told me you've been having seizures since before dawn, the intervals getting shorter with each one and the vet got in just five minutes before my call. You didn't recognize me anymore though I called out your name and looked into your glazed eyes. I had no choice but to agree to put you down because you were in much pain.
There are so many "should haves" that night. I should have rushed you to a better pet hospital with better equipment and compassionate veterinarians who might have taken a more aggressive approach to your situation the night before. Rather than you having to endure your pain in a dark room by yourself, your designated watchers just letting you have seizure after seizure without notifying anybody, it might even have been better if I just took you home and kept watch over you and hugged you tight when the pain was unbearable. I know I should have. I feel guilty and helpless every time I remember.
Missed foreverBrandy, I'm still heartbroken that you're gone forever. I miss your happy face, inquisitive eyes and perennially wagging tail. All your life, you brought me nothing but joy; I'm sorry that because of me, you had to go painfully. You couldn't say what was hurting you then, you couldn't say what you wanted. But without words, you tried to. And in many words, although it won't bring you back, here I am telling you that I'm sorry.