wrote in message
ups.com...
...but my beautiful rotty is in trouble now. I just had to tell
somebody about it, and I don't find the dog groups very friendly at
all. He's 12-1/2 years old now. He started having heart troubles two
years ago. He's been on enalapril for that. Now he's started leaking
urine at night. We gave him medicine for that, and it worked. But
once he got off the medicine, he started leaking again. This morning,
he threw up all his breakfast.

I took him to the vet, and they did a blood test and an X-ray of his
abdomen. There is a mass in his abdomen, and the vet doesn't know
what it is for sure. He doesn't want to do an exploratory on my boy
at his age. We've put him on the anti-leaking medicine again, and
then something for the tummy troubles, and we're continuing the heart
medicine. His heart is worse now. The blood test shows liver
problems now, too.

I will keep him as comfortable as I can. He is still bright and alert
-- interested and engaged. He's being so brave to try not to scare
me, I'm sure. I will not let him suffer, but I'm also not ready for
this at all. I guess we never are ready. He's been my companion, my
bodyguard, my light for so long. I don't know what I'll do when I
lose him. I think we're on borrowed time now.

Just needed to say....
--------------
Hi, Eve. I have been thinking about you and Streak since you first posted.
I'm sorry I didn't respond sooner, but I will try to respond to you at
length in the days to come. In one year, I lost both my wonderful Alvin (a
mixed breed dog who lived to be nearly 15 years old) and Molly (my
17-year-old Abyssinian cat, who came to us as a stray, believe it or not).
You're right that no one is ever ready to lose someone we love. When I was
in school, I will never forget the first day of pathology class. The
professor opened the first lecture with the following words: "Life is too
short. Even if everyone of us could be guaranteed 100 years, life would
still be too short." This man must have been 90 years old when he uttered
those words.

My father, of blessed memory, was terminally ill with emphysema. We tend to
be so frightened by the word "cancer" that we sometimes forget that there
are other equally horrible terminal diseases. The last time I took my dad to
see the pulmonologist, the doctor was afraid he had spotted a tumor in my
father's lung. (It turned out not to be cancer, but little did I know my
father would die from emphysema long before the cancer the would have taken
him anyway). I asked the doctor if it turned out that my father had cancer,
could it be treated? What was the likely prognosis? Would he live another
five years? The doctor looked at me strangely and said "He's 76 years old.
How long do want him to live?" [what an assinine thing to say]. I answered
"He's my father. Of course, I want him to live forever."

My dog Alvin lived for nearly 15 years, and it wasn't enough. Molly lived
for 17 years and it wasn't enough. My father lived for 76 years, and it
wasn't enough. A very wise woman once told me that the reason we're sad when
someone dies is not because we loved the person so much but because the
person loved us. Treasure every moment with Streak. Try to take comfort in
the fact that you are a great mom, and Streak is as lucky to have you as you
are to have him.
Best regards,
---Cindy S.