What a horrible day. Technically, they "brought her back" but by the wee hours of the 26th, we let her go. She was too far gone, too much damage. She wasn't coming back. I sent in a vibrant, happy dog, full of life although at the last minute, she resisted and didn't want to go with the vet. I insisted. I sent her in there, casually, thoughtlessly. Maybe she knew something I didn't but I didn't listen to her.
But we hadn't. We left her to stay at the vet overnight, fully expecting that she would come home the next day - even though she'd not regained consciousness by the time we left. Looking back, I'm sure they knew the odds were that she wouldn't recover but no one told us that. We thought she was going to be okay which made the decisions we made thereafter all the more painful.
They called us around 3:00 in the morning asking for permission to let her go because she was not getting better. They'd put her on pain meds but couldn't control her fever - it was all over the place. She was still unconscious. Her vitals were unstable. Her brain was sputtering out. In shock, we gave permission and she died without her family there to comfort her or say our last goodbyes or kiss her beloved snout one last time - and it just kills me.
Husband says she never really came back and I believe he's right. When I looked down at her on that table, Jezebel really was dead - at least the part that was Jezebel was gone. At some primitive area of her brain, she heard me calling her and that jump started her system. But she wasn't really back.
We could have had them wait for us to get there to put her down but we were hours away and she was unconscious and in a bad way. Chances are she wouldn't have lasted until we got there and there was no point in risking her suffering for our sakes. I didn't want to risk her suffering a single second. But it still kills me.
So I was looking through old photos, this morning, crying. Pearl was across the room and I saw her watching me, alarmed. She came over, reared up and covered me with kisses. She's very attune to how we feel. Jezebel was that way, too.
Here are some photos taken of Jezebel and my mother, just days before Mom passed away from cancer. Mom was not a dog person and Jezebel didn't know her before she came to stay with us those last weeks. But she immediately attached herself to mom and appointed herself mom's caregiver. Jezebel was a complete angel and brought mom a lot of comfort. I honestly believe she helped mom deal with pain.
I continued to look through old photos but started to feel a little better, especially seeing lovely Ms. Evelyn as a cute puppy and an awkward adolescent.
Jezebel and Evelyn as a pup:
This was taken the week we learned she had cancer (which she beat). Jezebel (left), Evelyn (right):
Happy Quilting, Penny, Evelyn and Pearl