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Tonight was the worst night ever.
My beloved dog, Cammi, got sick last night in the house, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. She often would drink or eat too fast and end up puking. This morning, she puked water. Again, not a huge concern as she was otherwise her bouncy lovable playful self.
Tonight, however, she could barely walk she was so weak and had puked while we were gone. Couldn't figure out what was going on so we gave her some water and she puked it right back up. After an hour or so, she perked up a bit and seemed to be getting pretty strong as she jumped up on me. So, I left to help Geoff with his wiring. I should have postponed, but in retrospect it wouldn't have made any difference.
I got a call from my crying wife about an hour later that Cammi had a seizure and kept wanting to go outside to lay down. I hurried home and found Cammi quite out of it. After a short conversation about how animal ER's seriously gouge you, we took Cammi for what would be her last "ride."
After a 30 mile ride to the ER on Big Bend, and after six more seizures, we had some hard decisions to make.
It seems that Cammi, when running amok in the fields, had stumbled upon some poison of some sort that caused her organs to fail. Her blood levels showed that calcium was bottomed out and potassium was through the roof. She wasn't going to pull out of this.
The people at the AEC placed Cammi on a blanket and let us cuddle our "baby girl" and say our good-byes. We kissed her on her muzzle like she always liked and spooned up against her back like we would do in bed every night. No amount of time would have been enough, though, and we knew that prolonging the inevitable would be selfish. We held on to her as the very gentle doctor slipped the needle into her I.V. And we watched as the dog who had been with "Dirk and Danielle" since the beginning of the marriage breathed slower and slower, then was gone. I placed my hand on her chest where her heartbeat had vacated, and knew that I had a Cammi shaped hole in me that could never be mended.
Cammi wasn't just another dog, she was perfect. Even at just shy of seven years (would have been 7 in April) she was still so quick to learn new tricks. Heck, just a couple weeks ago, I taught her to "fist pump." She could do about a dozen normal dog tricks, but the trick that she didn't have to be taught was how to melt a heart.
Cammi excelled at cuddling, she knew when it was bedtime, it was her duty to warm up Danielle's spot. She loved to hop up on your lap and push her cheek into your lips. That dog would compel love. She emanated a greatness of understanding that I would have never dreamed possible. Cammi cared. Truly cared! I never thought dogs could truly have the emotion of Love before there was Cammi.
I know we did all we could for her, but nonetheless, I don't know if I will ever fully heal from the hurt I feel inside.
I love you forever, Cammi.
Rest well, my dearest.
Dirk
My beloved dog, Cammi, got sick last night in the house, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. She often would drink or eat too fast and end up puking. This morning, she puked water. Again, not a huge concern as she was otherwise her bouncy lovable playful self.
Tonight, however, she could barely walk she was so weak and had puked while we were gone. Couldn't figure out what was going on so we gave her some water and she puked it right back up. After an hour or so, she perked up a bit and seemed to be getting pretty strong as she jumped up on me. So, I left to help Geoff with his wiring. I should have postponed, but in retrospect it wouldn't have made any difference.
I got a call from my crying wife about an hour later that Cammi had a seizure and kept wanting to go outside to lay down. I hurried home and found Cammi quite out of it. After a short conversation about how animal ER's seriously gouge you, we took Cammi for what would be her last "ride."
After a 30 mile ride to the ER on Big Bend, and after six more seizures, we had some hard decisions to make.
It seems that Cammi, when running amok in the fields, had stumbled upon some poison of some sort that caused her organs to fail. Her blood levels showed that calcium was bottomed out and potassium was through the roof. She wasn't going to pull out of this.
The people at the AEC placed Cammi on a blanket and let us cuddle our "baby girl" and say our good-byes. We kissed her on her muzzle like she always liked and spooned up against her back like we would do in bed every night. No amount of time would have been enough, though, and we knew that prolonging the inevitable would be selfish. We held on to her as the very gentle doctor slipped the needle into her I.V. And we watched as the dog who had been with "Dirk and Danielle" since the beginning of the marriage breathed slower and slower, then was gone. I placed my hand on her chest where her heartbeat had vacated, and knew that I had a Cammi shaped hole in me that could never be mended.
Cammi wasn't just another dog, she was perfect. Even at just shy of seven years (would have been 7 in April) she was still so quick to learn new tricks. Heck, just a couple weeks ago, I taught her to "fist pump." She could do about a dozen normal dog tricks, but the trick that she didn't have to be taught was how to melt a heart.
Cammi excelled at cuddling, she knew when it was bedtime, it was her duty to warm up Danielle's spot. She loved to hop up on your lap and push her cheek into your lips. That dog would compel love. She emanated a greatness of understanding that I would have never dreamed possible. Cammi cared. Truly cared! I never thought dogs could truly have the emotion of Love before there was Cammi.
I know we did all we could for her, but nonetheless, I don't know if I will ever fully heal from the hurt I feel inside.
I love you forever, Cammi.
Rest well, my dearest.
Dirk
