o hey tyler said:Yesterday, my Greyhound Cleo broke her leg. It was a traumatic experience for my family, as she was getting old in age. She was a month away from being 12 years old.
We rushed her to the Vet about 30 minutes away, I sat in the back seat with her keeping her calm and petting her. She only yelped once, and that was when I accidentally touched the wrong part of her leg. She is the epitome of a trooper. Stoic, and calm, despite being in a world of pain. I helped carry her in on a stretcher to the vets office, and from there they took over.
She had X-Rays done. It turns out that a bone fractured in her shoulder. The prognosis was not good, and that she would at least need to undergo surgery to repair the fracture. The Vet gave us the number for the animal emergency hospital that's about 40 minutes from home to set up an appointment. We scheduled a surgical consult for today at 8:30AM. As we were scheduling the consult, the Vet was off doing some bloodwork so that it was out of the way and didn't need to be done tomorrow morning at the other facility. Her blood work came back better than it did the last time she was at the vet, which I took as a good sign. The vet had warned us that she could have Bone Cancer, as it's common at that age... But the cell counts were normal, so I had high hopes for the surgery the next day.
Later that night, she wouldn't stay down at home. She kept wanting to get up and move around, even when she knew she couldn't. We had no other choice but to bring her to the 24 hour emergency facility where her surgery was scheduled for this morning. We knew she'd be in good hands there, and they'd be able to sedate her and keep her calm. I went to sleep feeling optimistic, and figured she'd have options tomorrow even if they couldn't operate on her leg. My parents were going to go down and see her through the surgery the next morning, so they'd keep me update on her progress.
8:40AM, I receive a call. Cleo is inoperable, and has to be put down. This was not the way I wanted to wake up.
I rush down to South Portland with my girlfriend. I can't keep it together (4 hour later, and I still can't keep it together). I know this is my last chance to say goodbye to my wonderful dog.
We get there, and go in to see her. She's laying down on a bunch of blankets with her head on a pillow. She's comfortable and calm. Slowly, she lifts her head up to look at us as we walk closer to her. She's relieved to see familiar faces. I wasn't ready to let my dog go. None of us were. I kissed her, and told her how much I loved her, as well as how great of a dog she was. The doctor injected the anesthetic, and she was gone.
Still. Motionless. Not breathing. Our dog was no longer with us.
She was a gentle creature. She never ever barked (until we were finally able to train her to bark), she never bit anyone (or anything), and she never showed any sign of pain, unless she absolutely had to. Cleo had seven teeth removed at the age of 10, and showed no sign of slowing down. After her teeth were removed, her quality of life improved and she acted like she did when she was younger. It was the pain that was causing her to be docile, but she never showed us or let us know she was hurting. Cleo was a quiet companion, always near people and always listening or looking. Today has been really hard for me, and I feel like a piece of me is missing. I'd like to share a few photos of an absolutely wonderful creature who I wish you all could have met.
She loved to prance around in the leaves or snow.