Not a good way to start Colorado’s stay at home order. I had to take Dottie to the vet and put her to sleep this morning. I hope you’re running with Flower, Dottie, like you did when you were younger.
Dottie was 14 and a half years old. She was born on Sept. 17, 2005. We brought her home in June 2011.
When we decided to adopt a dog, and we went to Best Friends Forever, we were looking at half-sisters Candy and Flower, who were 2, and decided to adopt both of them. Delores, the shelter owner, convinced us to take their half-sister, Dottie, too. At 5, she was elderly and Delores thought she would be difficult to find a home for, so she said she’d throw her in for free. We joked over the years that she really wasn’t free. But because of that, we nicknamed her Extra.
A couple of years ago, Dottie developed some medical issues. She had constant problems with her ears and then, with her eyes. We were told last year that she had a tumor on her adrenaline gland and that it would be tricky to remove it. Basically, two years ago, we started saying she was in “hospice care.”
Dottie got frailer and frailer as the months went by, but each morning when we came downstairs, she’d get up out of her bed and follow me around, and each night when John got home from work, once he was resting on the couch, she’d go and rub her head against his legs as he petted her. On most mornings, she would follow me into the kitchen to see what goodies she would get as I made John lunch.
I won’t say that Dottie was always pleasant. In the past couple of years, she developed a habit where she would suddenly get possessive or jealous, and want to “eat Nigel’s head.” Sometimes when she was sitting by me on the couch, and Nigel walked up the doggie stairs, she would growl at him so fiercely that he would flee in terror. I would have to say, though, that her bark was worse than her bite.
All in all, she was our precious little Extra, and even when she was a terror, we would soon forgive her.
We don’t quite know what happened in the last week. Over the weekend, she started hunching up her back and when I would come near her, she would look way up at me, in a way that wasn’t normal. I thought maybe her eyesight was failing further and she couldn’t see me very well. Other than that, she seemed fine, although her normal frail self.
However, this morning, she woke me up very early, crying. When I came downstairs, I realized she couldn’t get out of her bed. She was trying to, but her back legs wouldn’t move. I picked her up and sat her next to me on the couch. For a while, she seemed comfortable, and then she would start crying again.
By the time John got up, I knew that I would have to take her to the vet. I didn’t know what to expect, with the new stay at home law and new rules at our vet office, Clear Creek Animal Hospital.
As soon as the office opened, I called and spoke to Debbie, the lead receptionist. I was crying, but I finally got out that I felt like I might need to put Dottie to sleep. She told me that when I got there, I should call and tell them I was there. They would make sure no one was in the lobby before ushering us in.
I had John tell Dottie goodbye, and I put her in the car. I kept her on my lap during the 20-minute drive. When I got to Clear Creek, I called them and Laurie, the other receptionist waved me in.
Debbie took me into an office. As we talked, I held Dottie, who was still hunched up from whatever was wrong with her. After we had talked bout Dottie for a while, she informed me that both of her shih tzus had recently died. I was shocked. Debbie had recently told me that one of her shih tzus had a tumor, and they were doing what they could for it. Then, a few weeks ago, her other shih tzu got sick, and within weeks, they both died. Debbie and I sat in the office, several feet apart, me crying and her trying not to. I knew we both wanted to comfort each other, but fear of coronavirus kept us from hugging, so we sympathized with each other from across the room.
When Dr. Lindsey came in, I explained to her how Dottie had been acting. She told me that Dottie’s condition could be caused by several things. The tumor on her adrenaline gland could have grown bigger, or maybe she had suffered an injury, causing something neurological. She said we could try steroids, but she didn’t know about the results.
Because of Dottie’s continued and multiple issues, I asked if she thought I should put her to sleep. She hesitated and then said, “It’s not the wrong decision.”
I knew what she meant. She didn’t want to tell me it was the “right” decision, but she wanted to assure me it wasn’t wrong to do it. I said that was my decision. She asked if I wanted to be with Dottie when they gave her the injection. She also said that while they were putting in the catheter, if Dottie struggled (and she was known to struggle!), she would give her a sedative.
She left the room with Dottie and when she came back, Dottie was gently sleeping, no longer hunched up and in pain. Dr. Lindsey asked if I wanted to be alone with Dottie, but instead, I chose to reminisce with her, since she had been Dottie’s vet for nine years. I told her funny stories and we talked about Delores and when we first got Dottie, Candy, and Flower.
Then, she told me Dottie was gone. Thank you, Dr. Lindsey, and Clear Creek staff, for guiding me through this difficult process, euthanasia, that I had never gone through before.
We have so many memories of Extra that I hope to share someday soon. Our little baby, Extra, we loved you so much, and we will miss you and those bright little eyes.
