This post is pretty heavy, so if you’re in a fragile space yourself right now, I do recommend skipping it. Here’s some pretty pictures to bury the lead…..
I know shouting “THIS YEAR FUCKING SUCKS” is nothing new for literally everyone on the planet, but my brain is basically screaming that all the time now, a turbulent river running under the daily tasks and newly increased work load I’m juggling. Tom and I tried to take our only vacation together this year, in a fancy hotel at our favorite beach he worked his butt off to afford as a special treat…but Cyrus wasn’t feeling great the whole time, and we had to rush him to the emergency vet twice the night we returned. The second time the x-rays showed he has spondylosis, which is basically arthritis in his spine. He’s in an acute phase right now, which is just wrenching to watch and deal with in a dog that was healthy and fine not even a week ago.
He can’t get out of bed, the pain meds he’s on make him super duper loopy and out of it, and he’s not interested in anything. When he does try to get up, he mostly flops until I help up and about. I’m spending my days in what for me is a high state of anxiety, checking him constantly, trying to figure out what he needs and what’s best for him and just hoping we can get him through this. I’m terrified the vets might be wrong and I’ll have to say goodbye to our fourth family member this year….but I’m most terrified for how this will affect my husband and son. Cyrus is their dog as much as mine, he’s the best damn dog our family could have and to see him like this….we’re all at that stretching point where we really have to ask ourselves how much more we can take. Intellectually we know we can do more, of course, that’s life, but why does it have to be so damn hard?
I’m supposed to be excited about possibly purchasing a new horse tomorrow, and even though the new blue halter hangs off my office chair and I need to pack for tomorrow’s trip and help my friends prep for the road trip tomorrow…I’m just inches away from balling, even though I can hear Cyrus snoring at my feet. My one spot of hope is both vet’s cautious optimism, and a cold laser therapy treatment. He received a session on Monday (hats off to my vet for seeing us even though I showed up at the wrong office!) and he was almost his normal self the entire day, “helping” Tom cook, claiming the couch, and able to move around the yard on his own, if slowly. He’s going back this morning for another treatment and I’m holding out so much hope that it will help enough to keep him moving through this hardest phase.
Cyrus is the best damn dog, and we’ll do what’s right for him…we just wish it’s hanging with us a little longer.