Ginger.

Our family dog is ill.  A veterinarian came yesterday and discovered two tumors.  One on her liver and one on her spinal cord.  She said that something like 90% of the time when tumors are found in those areas, it is cancer.  Treatment could extend her life by months, but it would cause pain and deteriorate her quality of life.  She also has cognitive disorders, basically that is the equal to a dog’s Alzheimer’s or dementia.  She has been battling really bad arthritis, too, but that has been an issue for about three or four years.  They give her two days to three weeks.  We have to consider putting her down.  Yesterday both my parents agreed to do it, and then this morning my dad wasn’t sure he could, but has vacillated back and forth, back and forth.  She hasn’t eaten since Saturday, not for lack of trying.  She barely drinks.  They say that dogs only can last up to eight days without food before they die.  This Saturday will be day six.  If we do not put her down she has the risk of two things: dying by starvation, or dying because the tumors grow big enough to cause internal damage and she would bleed out internally.

This is so hard to handle.  She has been a member of our family for thirteen years.  My mom keeps crying.  She thinks she is being ridiculous, or that my dad will think less of her.  I don’t cry in front of Mom, but I sure as shit cry in my room.  Last night I cried myself to sleep because of it.  I remember when we were younger and had hamsters and Chuck, our albino two and a half-year old hamster died.  My sister and I wept long and hard for him.  When we got Ginger, my dad would always make comments like, “Remember when Chuck died?  It’s going to be a lot worse with this dog.”  (My dad was never a big fan of Ginger, but when he thinks no one is looking, he pets her, coos at her, tells her he loves her so much.)

I just don’t want her to be in anymore pain.