Rest in Peace, Magic Man

We had to euthanize our dog Magic Man this week. I woke up Tuesday morning, and felt horrible. I decided to feed the dogs before I called in sick, so I could go back to bed, and not get pestered.

Magic didn't eat. Not only did he not eat, he threw up his cheese.I immediately woke up TS, and told him we needed to get Magic into the vet right away, something was wrong. He got up and showered while I called in to work, and then while I was in the shower he called the vet and told them we were coming in. When we got there, I went in and filled out paperwork, and TS took Magic outside so he could pee. Magic collapsed in the parking lot, and had to be brought in on a gurney. I knew then it was bad, but hoped he was just dehydrated because of a lack of fluids.

The vet techs took him in back, and showed us into a room. A bit later one of the techs came in, and said that after they started him on an IV he was much better. His gums had been pale, but pinked up. His tail was wagging, as usual. X-rays would be taken.We were thinking it was another obstruction, but we couldn't figure out what he could have possibly eaten.

Yes, he had eaten a few things in the recent past, but nothing lately. We had been vigilant since the sock incident. Buying a covered hamper, since we thought that he'd purloined the last socks from a full hamper. Getting a bathroom garbage can with a step-opening cover. Making sure tempting items were thrown away, put away, or well out of reach (in Magic's case this meant the top of the armoire, or entertainment center). Finally the doctor came in and told us she thought there was another obstruction. She showed us the x-rays, and said it was concerning, because the only clear soft-tissue picture in his abdomen was his kidneys. The intestines were unclear. But there were lots of gas bubbles (which by this time we knew meant blockage). She asked us if we would like the radiologist to take a look, although it would take longer. Of course, we said. The radiologist wanted to take more pictures. The doctor told us it might be awhile, since Magic was groggy from the pain medication they'd given him, and we should go. Because of his previous surgeries and problems, they wanted the board-certified soft tissue surgeon to preform the surgery. We said, fine. Paid for the surgery. Left.

A few hours later, I got a call. Yes, I was still sick as a dog, and worried about my dog. The news was worse than even my imagination. Magic did not have a blockage. The vet felt he had not healed properly after the second surgery. His intestines were stuck together, adhesions had apparently blocked the flow of blood, and now his intestines were dying. Parts were dead. They felt other organs could even be involved, but there was no way to know for sure, because they couldn't see anything. He was bleeding internally. The radiologist felt there was no possible hope. The surgeon was ready to go, but they had to go right then. Everyone made it clear he didn't have much of a chance, that probably the surgeon would be calling us from the operating table. I told them I had to talk to TS, but I would get right back to them.

I was in shock. This couldn't be happening. I talked to him, and he called them back, to make sure I didn't miss anything. He asked if, on the slight chance they could save him, if Magic would heal correctly. The vet said there was no way to know for sure - but it was likely, with his past history he would have the same, or similar issues. So even if they operated and as unlikely as it seemed, saves him, he might go through this again.

TS came home, and we talked it over. Initially, I wanted to do the surgery. I did NOT want to make the decision to let my boy go without fighting until the end, no matter what. But as we talked, I remembered the discussion we'd had after Magi's second surgery, when things looked grim. How I'd felt I would probably not want to put him through a third surgery, without being certain they could fix him. How bad I'd feel if he died on a cold operating table, surrounded by people who didn't love him. Or worse yet, come through this surgery and then have the same thing happen again, after he had seemingly recovered - when he really wasn't. We decided to let him go.

It was the hardest decision I have had to make. Yeah, maybe I'm lucky in that respect, but I don't feel lucky.

He wagged his tail when they brought him in, even though he was groggy, and in pain, even with the morphine.

We spent some time with him. The tech who came in to give us our refund for the surgery Magi wasn't having was crying, and apologized. I told her it was okay, I appreciated the fact she cared. It was a very peaceful ending. His head was in my lap. After it was over, he didn't look like my Magic anymore. Magic was gone.

The worst things about it were that there was no obvious sign of any problem. After his surgery, he was back to normal within a week. We followed all the instructions the vet had given us. He was eating normally, playing, digging, being his normal merry self. We played fetch the night before, and he had a great time, shaking his head as he brought back "Grunter" his rubber ball with feet and devil ears.

There were a few things that made me wonder if all was well, but nothing that made even paranoid me call the vet. Nothing abnormal, for a dog. Eating grass - so was Nemo. (So have every single one of our dogs - sick or well.) No diarrhea, which would have sent me to the phone immediately. Maybe the occasional soft stool, but then they would be fine. Nothing that couldn't be blamed on a sneaked french fry, or his still-tender system adjusting to a foot less of intestine. Not laying the same way he did pre-surgery. I think I even asked the vet who took his stitches out about that. She said he might be a little tender for awhile, things were still healing.

It was shocking to loose him so suddenly, and so young. I am having a very hard time. I know I will be okay, but it's so sad. He was such a lover. Such a sweet, merry, fun dog. He loved everyone, and everyone loved him back. I miss him jumping on the bed when the alarm goes off. I miss him coming over and just laying his head on my leg for a minute. Hugging him. The glint in his eye when he got something forbidden. His little "oof" when he lay his head down on my foot. His excitement when he saw something new. His lack of fear of the vacuum cleaner; he thought it was the Best Toy Ever. Watching him and Nemo play in the snow. His joy when we brought home a new toy. And of course, his gusto for food. His doggy kisses, even the slobbery ones, that grossed me out and made me laugh at the same time. His big old feet, and his soft nose. He is the fourth animal we have lost in a year. Cocoa to the wild, Suzie to cancer, Kiel to diabetes, and now Magic. I am so sad.