Last night we sat down and watched Finding Nemo, trying to
ignore the fact that Dino was changing positions in his basket every five
minutes or so because he couldn’t stand the pain. We have had that basket for about three years and it’s
become a depot for Gary’s belongings because the chance of us getting Dino in
it was never going to happen especially when he could share our sofa, blankets
and even our bed.
Today we sat in the Vets waiting room and his tail was
wagging violently as other dogs greeted him. Wagging so hard that his little rack of ribs were plunged
left and right like huge waves were jumping over him and pulling him back. The
smell of a vets waiting room is a little more like ‘Vosene’ than the sterile
fragrance of hospital wards. The
receptionist made three phone calls, all of which asked three dog owners to
come in and collect the ashes. It was here that I felt my throat swell, eyes
drown and I lost my voice to a broken squeak for the next 30 minutes. Luckily
Ellis was able to talk to the vet whilst I just gripped that cute little face
and warm eyes trying to steal and encapsulate what could be the last looks and
response of my friend.
That silent drive home lasted forever, but at the same time
I don’t remember taking in a second of the passing landscape.
After a few
coffees, too many cigarettes and plenty of dead daydreaming the phone rang and
displayed ‘Vet’. The vets had previously warned us that an early phone call
meant that when he was ‘open’ on the chopping board there would be a decision
to make, otherwise they would just remove the tumour and we would collect him
with a lampshade over his head later.
A Man about early forties spoke directly telling me that he had not yet
‘opened’ Dino. The pre X-Ray showed that the tumour was spread into places that
an operation couldn’t reach. His
lungs were affected and parts of his spleen, possibly other organs and areas of
his spine. He had worsened and could not be operated on. The vet told me that
he could not fix Dino. He said he could remove some of the tumour but it would
be lengthy, costly and would be fatal. He said that it would be unlikely for
Dino to pull through the Op and recovery and would die a few weeks later and
still be in pain during that process. I don’t remember much of the conversation
after and I had to tell Ellis to phone the vets again to see what the options
were and hope Dino had one waiting.
Ellis rang me after his phone call and he was at a blur also… we both
cried for a long time and reminisced about our little babba and what a little
fucker he had been in the early days at Elm Tree Row, to how he was our family
and faithful friend now. We decided that we wanted to bury him if we had to let
him go. We both said it would be hard to carry his body and for a while Ellis
said getting him cremated might be better for us – but after hearing the
receptionist doing those calls this morning I couldn’t bare to be on that to do
list of hers. Ellis rang the vets
again and asked his advice as we were too blinded by tears and hope to decide
on anything.
The vet advised that we should not get him operated on and
collect him at 2:30pm. He advised to give him a chance on medication that aims
to shrink tumours. If Dino takes to the medication it could buy him 6 months
of pain free life. If he is not improved by Monday then we will need to
consider removing that pain and letting him go to sleep forever.
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| Dino in Uncle Gary's Sling |
I feel like I have gone the full circle today having the
biggest hopes and faith in knowing he will pull through, to choosing a plant to
commemorate where his body may lay.
For some people he is just a pet, but to us he is everything and his
presence fills our house and life.
When we collected him from Union St in South Normanton,
November 2006 I plonked him on Ellis’ knee and he said ‘Jesus Jodie that dog is
going to be with me until I’m 40’…. I remember laughing wildly as it was Ellis’
biggest commitment to date. Somehow I hope Ellis’ statement could somehow come
true.
