At my last update, Bubba was doing well. The medications had stopped the seizures and he seemed to be doing OK. Not great, not running around like he was a pup again, but he was eating, drinking, walking on his own to go potty, jumping up on the couch to snuggle, etc. It's amazing how quickly it can all change. I took Bubba and Zoey to stay with my parents for a few weeks, because I had a trip and a work conference to attend. Mom told me that Bubba was running (!) up and down the fenceline barking (!!) at people walking by. This is something that hasn't happened in a VERY long time. And barking?!!? Bubba was not a barker. Ever. So, I rested easy that he was doing well.
I picked them up on Saturday after my work conference and headed home. Bubba had a vet appointment that Monday to have his levels checked and they didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. He looked a little skinny to me, but Mom said he'd been eating ok. By Wednesday, I knew something wasn't right. He wasn't having seizures, but he was barely able to walk on his own. I carried him up and down the stairs, placed him in the grass to potty, and he could barely hold himself up to do that. Thursday I came home to a mess in the house, because he hadn't gone that morning. But Friday...Friday I knew something was very wrong. He wouldn't take his medicine. He wouldn't even take a treat. I hadn't seen him eat or drink anything. So, I kissed him and told him I loved him and I cried all the way to work. I cried for the first half of the day at work, because I just wasn't ready to face this.
I had a graduation cake to finish making, so I left work early that day hoping that all would be ok when I got home. It was not. There was more mess on the floor, and on him. He hadn't even been able to get up and had just pottied where he lay. And he didn't get up at all after I got home...for a long time. I layed beside him and cried, hugged him and kissed him, told him that I loved him. And then as my heart broke, I called the vet to see when I could bring him in to end his suffering. I felt like the most horrible mommy on Earth, like I was about to kill my baby boy. But I told him that I loved him, that it was ok for him to go, and prayed that he would go on his own before morning.
Being the amazing dog that he was, he heard me, and he did just that. J came over that evening and we left to run and errand. When we returned, about 30 minutes later, my sweet boy lay lifeless on the floor. He waited for me to leave so I wouldn't have to see it happen, but he let go and the suffering stopped. I put him in his bed and wrapped his blanket around him and let my friends and family know that he was gone. Saturday morning I drove him to my parents' house and buried him. I haven't really let myself slow down since then, to let it really sink in that he's gone. But as I sit here writing this, it's all starting to hit me. When I get home from work today, he won't be there.
While I'm grateful that he's not in pain and he's not suffering anymore, the thought of never seeing that sweet face again, never having him snuggle up and spoon as we go to sleep each night...it's just unbearable. Thankfully I have an amazing boyfriend and two other fur-babies, as well as wonderful friends and family, to help me get through this. But what I really need is the one person who has been with me through all of the rough times of my adult life - to snuggle, lick my face, and make me smile. So I try my best to say goodbye and to remember all of the good times we had together over the past 11 years.
That sweet, sweet face with his little head cocked to the side; chasing his ball time-after-time until you were too tired to throw it, even if he wasn't too tired to chase it; the way he jumped up in the bed and snuggled into the spoon position almost before I could fully lay down; the way he would run to the window when I was leaving for work and watch me walk to the car and drive away; the way he somehow just knew where the window button was on the car and he'd jump up and roll it down so he could stick his head out in the wind; how much he loved french fries and pizza bones...so many things, so many memories. He was the light of my life, always a mama's boy, and I will never forget the joy he brought to my life.
I'm really thankful that J got to spend a few months with him, even if he wasn't really himself anymore; and that Zoey and Skeeter got to love him, too. They had a great big brother, and he tolerated them well in his old age ;)
Goodbye my sweet boy...Mama will always, always love you.