I have a hole in my heart. An emptiness in my soul. The burden of this pain has taken an unbelievable toll……….Tina Evangelista-Eppenstein
Last Thursday evening, my dear, sweet, precious Shadow’s life came to an end. I truly don’t even know if my words can convey the enormity of his loss in my life.
Knowing he isn’t struggling to breathe anymore and free to run does not quiet nor ease my emotions.
Shadow suffered from respiratory distress in late April of this year. He was diagnosed with pneumonia. Some pets never fully recover from it and Shadow was no exception. I have always been there for my “best boy” every step of the way but extremely diligent after this occurred. It had only been a month since my father had passed away when Shadow became ill.
Shadow suffered from a number of maladies when the respiratory distress occurred including a collapsing trachea, heart murmur, enlarged heart and allergies. But through that menagerie of issues, Shadow always had a positive outlook. He didn’t let them stop him from being happy and playful up until the end.
He had improved but in the last couple of weeks, his cough became more pronounced and persistent. I had been in touch with my vet on a constant basis.
Last Wednesday, when I saw him sitting in my living room with his head and neck extended toward the ceiling, I knew I had to get him to the vet immediately. He was given injections of lasix and cortisteroid and by all appearances Shadow improved throughout the day. Until that night when, once again, he struggled to breathe and his head and neck became extended. He also couldn’t lie down. He tried but would sit up immediately.
My husband and I took him to the Emergency Animal Hospital on Lancaster Avenue. The vet on duty said that a night of being in an oxygen tank and some meds should do the trick since he wasn’t as bad as last time. I thought the exact same thing. By 3:45 AM, I received a call telling me Shadow was worse and wouldn’t stop barking. They wanted permission to do x-rays which showed pulmonary edema. Shadow had to be sedated to calm him and his breathing. His respiration rate was very high.
When we picked him up to take back to our own vet to be placed back into the oxygen tank, Shadow was calm and his respiration rate began to decline. At our vet, he didn’t want to be in the oxygen tank. He was allowed to sleep freely on an incline. I was told he had improved but did continue to bark which only makes a collapsing trachea worse. So we decided to bring Shadow home. Actually it was the vet’s idea. If we could keep him calm, he could get through this episode.
Before I brought him home, I asked for blood work on Shadow. Before we arrived I received a phone call. Shadow’s kidneys were bad. Weren’t failing but were bad. New meds ordered. If they didn’t work, Shadow would die of heart failure. If they did work, it may buy him some time but eventually his kidneys would fail. We knew there wasn’t much time left for our boy.
Once Shadow was in my arms heading back to our home, it was quite apparent Shadow couldn’t breathe properly. His head and neck became extended once again. He couldn’t lie down. He struggled to breathe. I tried to lie down with him to calm him to no avail. He did walk around and surprisingly, he wanted food. His appetite was insatiable.
BUT, he struggled so badly to breathe. I could see his heart beat through his chest. His respiration rate was extremely high. My vet told me to give him a half-hour to see if he calms down. He didn’t because he couldn’t.
I have asthma and I’ve had severe attacks including an anaphylactic attack so I know what it is like to struggle to get your breath. It is a horrible manner in which to die.
We knew we could not allow Shadow to suffer. We knew Shadow was going to die from not being able to breathe or a heart attack, in our opinion.
He was able to spend some time at home briefly with us and his best buddy, Jazz, before we took him for his last ride. Moments before we took him, my husband snapped this picture of Shadow and me.
As I waited outside the vet’s office with Shadow, he struggled so. He was wheezing and his heart was beating so hard. As much as I didn’t want to say good-bye to my dear, sweet, Shadow, I also didn’t want him to suffer as he was.
I wanted to hold him as the syringe entered his leg. From the moment the liquid entered his vein, Shadow relaxed for the first time and in those few seconds I had before he died, he and I looked at each other and I told him how much I loved him. Seconds later, he was finally at peace.
I write this with tears in my eyes and sorrow in my heart. Shadow was a beam of light who brought so much joy to my life. That light has been extinguished and my heart and soul ache for him. Our home is no longer the same. Jazz is confused. Shadow and Jazz were “brothers”. They played together, slept side by side and even ate out of the same dish at the same time. Neither one was dominant over the other one. They had a bond that began the day they met. I feel so badly for Jazz. And I feel badly for us.
The loss of a pet is the same type of grief one experiences when a human loved one dies. The pain is no less for so many of us.
In my second part, I will discuss the pain associated of losing a beloved pet and special member of the family.
Shadow, you were such a special dog. You live on in our hearts and we will never forget you. I love you my dear, sweet, precious Shadow. My heart is broken and there is an emptiness because you are no longer here on earth.