A good chunk of this “baby blog” is about Luna for a reason. She has been a great dog for one, but she was also our dog during many of our major life events. She was there when we were figuring out where to go from graduation, aka leaving West Texas. She was there when we bought our first (and second) house. She was there when Xena died, or Buddy died, or Mr. and Mrs. Sparkman died, or when Roscoe died and comforted us through it all. In a dog army that was once six dogs deep she is the last of her troupe. She is the dog who was home during COVID, here when Finn was born, and has been around long enough that Finn genuinely knows who she is (as much a two year olds can).
She is is the technically the correct term as she lives in the world at this moment. But this is likely her final day, and I am sitting out in front of the emergency vet for the third time this year. The first time in March was a battle, but I succeeded and she bounced back for over three months from her sickness. In that time her near death experience made me really appreciate this comeback, at least for as long as I could. For at least the first month I would wake up every day and genuinely feel like seeing her was a miracle. She put her ear up once, she fattened up to snore a little, we went for many walks while it was cool. Overall it was a great period. The story of how I went through so many vets to get that last bit of time will be one of my all time favorite life stories, and her being a real dog again felt like a victory over those who gave up on her. I just did my best to soak it up.
But eventually life stepped in. Finn got sick for a month straight it seemed like, with us getting sick in the middle of that too. This daycare sickness streak conflicted with the greater world going on around me where the COVID quarantine was ending, and at least at my office it became an internal crab bucket fight for the work from home accommodations to end. I had a huge work project dumped on me that had me at home seeing her but not in some relaxed way where I was Luna focused. I began to take her for granted again like humans tend to do.
This all fell apart one day when Lindsey snapped me out of my daze and showed me how Luna had regressed in weight because she wouldn’t eat the one food that would help her. We did all sorts of things to try to get her to eat, but those mostly ended with her leaking out the butt constantly. Lindsey made her food, and we feed her great stuff dogs can usually eat, but it just kept getting worse. I made her an appointment with the super vet who saved her last time as a last ditch attempt to save her.
The day before that appointment I worked like crazy trying to make sure I had the space to take her the next day and not have to pretend I was working. After a long work day I got home and Finn was pretty crazy, probably my because he hated being ignored some that week as Lindsey and I made Luna the focus. All that day Lindsey kept asking me if she should take her to the vet early and I couldn’t decide, heck I didn’t have the bandwidth to decide. So I pushed her off until we had the discussion again after Finn went to bed. At that moment I saw Luna’s eyes roll back into her head and I knew she wasn’t going to make it a day further to get to that appointment.
Part of me knew they probably couldn’t do anything and it was time to let go, but another part of me decided that if I let her die that night because I had a long day and I was too tired to deal with her I would never forgive myself. So I took her again, and stayed up super late for them just to hospitalize her again. She got to see the specialist vet again and ran up a bill equal to the one in March. And she survived that night and a few more, and got a plan to move forward and maybe be well again.
More than anything we got more time, and that extra time I used to say goodbye. I read with her my list of favorite Luna memories that night, and appreciated how good of a final rebound we got out of her. She laid on her favorite mat and humored me, and I got to give her the focus that I didn’t have the months prior to that incident. I am glad I took her.
But unlike March when we got her back from the vet she was in bad shape still. Her ass was bleeding, she was on a ton of meds, in obvious pain and with a swollen leg. The last part is what shocked me as they didn’t seem to notice it when I picked her up with it. And even though the rest of her got better some the leg didn’t, and right now I am at the emergency vet for what I think is the last time seeing why her leg got so large.
We will see, but what I know is I am ready. I am ready to let go. I am ready for her to not be in pain. She has passed every benchmark I could imagine for her, and then gave me extra time at the end to appreciate her one last time. I know I have to be brave for her like I wasn’t for Roscoe. I know I have to put her first, and if I had done that already she would already be gone.
There are still two parts of me that don’t want to let go. One part is scared what her death means for me and my own battle with mortality and turning 40. Another part just doesn’t want to not have such a big presence in our lives gone, the empty house that has been felt every night she has been in the hospital. As of this moment these parts of me have hope to cling to until they call and tell me how bad it is. But I made the trip today expecting bad news, expecting to say goodbye. To finally close this chapter.
Maybe there will be a part 4 for this blog, but I know no matter what she will always be a part of my life. And Finn’s life too, she set his expectations for dogs in a very positive way. That means as he moves forward he carries with him a little piece of her, and that is the thought that will give me true comfort and peace when the post-Luna part of our life begins.
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