Tuesday, April 18, 2006
One Last Hurrah
Life is decidedly unfair, and despite the best of intents, happy endings are not assured. Some of you may have read about Bobbi and Jackie: the two chihuahuas we put up in adoptions with the hopes of sending them home together. Bobbi had an enlarged heart, but seemed to be doing well. He overcame surprising odds to be able to share that kennel, and we hoped a future home, with his much younger and spryer "trophy wife".Not long after we blogged about these two, Bobbi began coughing heavily and his breathing seemed labored. At first, we pulled the pair from adoptions and into the back so that no one could adopt Jackie while Bobbi waited to be seen by our vets. Unfortunately, an exam and an x-ray later, the news was not good. Bobbi's heart was no longer close to failing: it was in the process of doing so. No one could say for sure how much time he'd have left, but we could no longer call him adoptable. Jackie was returned to adoptions, this time alone. As I write this, she's still waiting there, a little glum for missing her longtime companion.
And Bobbi?
Well, Bobbi's at my house. Curled up behind me on my chair, actually. He's going to be living with me until living becomes more struggle than fun. Then I'll ply him with forbidden goodies like Egg and Sausage McMuffins and I'll hold him as ND or RL ease him onward. I don't know how long he has. I do know he seems to be having a good time here, enjoying the company of the people and the opportunity to bully dogs eight times his size. In the few days he's spent at my house, he's already had a couple of ups and downs. We've had to triple his daily dosage of medication. His breathing, though quiet, is deeper than it should be. When he sleeps on my lap, I can feel how hard his heart has to work now. He's also taken to ricocheting on and off the couch, snuggling up into any and all available laps, and yarp-yarp-yarping at any unexpected noise like a good chiwi ought.
To spend eight or more years in a back yard, wind up in a shelter, get pulled to another shelter, survive neutering and teeth cleaning when odds said you wouldn't, and placed in adoptions, all to have to be euthanized when it seemed the coast was actually clear? That seemed just a little too unfair, and I was lucky enough to be able to help out.
It's not precisely a happy ending. More like bittersweet. But it feels satisfying none the less.
