Goodbye Princess Pea

It has been just over two months since I posted about my high hopes for the Pea-Chi. Sadly, last night we said goodbye to her, so those high hopes are not to be. (you can see the the start of her story here)

Peanut had been making great progress. She was feisty as usual, and happy. Yesterday I was home sick and I heard her making odd noises in her little bed. I went over to check on her and she seemed out of it, so I picked her up and took her temperature which turned out to be a scary and low 98.7. I quickly got out a heating pad and placed her on it, and gave her some nutrical. When her temperature was an even lower 98.1 10 minutes later I packed her up and headed to the vet, calling ahead on the way so they would be expecting us.

They examined her and found dehydration, poor motor skills, and her low temperature. Dr. Farmer immediately ran her in the back, took her blood glucose, and put her in warmer. When her blood work came back normal, and her glucose also came back normal, we started looking at other issues. When he suggested a CAT scan to see what was going on in her brain, I drew the line. Instinctively I knew, it wasn't going to solve anything, and was only going to scare her and cause her pain. Instead I decided to take her home, keep her comfortable, and watch her over the next few days to see how she did.

Soon I realized we didn't have a few days, she rapidly went down hill once I got her home. I got her settled in her comfy bed, and sat her on a heating pad. Then I gathered her up and took her into the bedroom. We lay face to face and petted her little head and told her I loved her and that if she decided to go tonight it was ok though we would miss her terribly. When she started making noises like she was in pain, I called Dr. Farmer on his cell and asked for his advice. He said he could call in some valium which would relax her and make her sleep, I could run her to the specialty hospital, or I could make the decision to put her to sleep.

Then Dr. Farmer said something which made me cry. He said Peanut had surpassed everyone's expectations. She had lived longer and thrived for longer than any of the vets said she would, and I had done everything and more to give her the best life possible. More than any of his other clients would have done and whether I decided to give Valium or put her to sleep neither was a wrong choice. He then said if she was his dog, he didn't know what he would do, but that even being a vet; he had let his own dog suffer far too long with cancer because he couldn't bear to let her go. That he felt guilty because looking back he knew he should have put her to sleep sooner, but just couldn't do it. I told him I needed to think about it, and that I would call him back so he could either call in the valium prescription or call ahead to the Emergency Clinic so they wouldn't give me a hard time when I showed up with her.

After that conversation, I just had to get out of the house and clear my head. I needed to make a decision, and I just couldn't concentrate. At that point, Ben asked if he could hold her and I said yes and that I needed to run out for cigarettes, though apparently he didn't hear me. I was gone for about 25-30 minutes, during which I called my friends Colleen and Kelly for advice. They both said the same thing, "it's time for you to let her go, she's had a great life and lived far longer than anyone thought possible and it sounds like she's ready even if you're not." Finally, I made up my mind, they were right; I needed to let her go.

While on the phone with them, Ben had called me, but when I tried to switch lines my phone froze. I quickly headed for home, and when I pulled up, Ben met me in the driveway and said he thought she had died. I took her little bed from him and walked in the house. He was right, she had passed away.

It's hard to believe Peanuts feisty little personality will no longer grace our home. I will no longer laugh as she demands her food or as she prances across the floor to Ben and demands her rightful place in his lap. I will no longer have the amusement of seeing her lunge and bite at grown men who dare invade the Princess bed sanctuary, and then watch those same men back away from her in surprise. Even at 1 pound 6 ounces she was a fierce little thing, woe to those who did not bow before her Princess ways. She will be so, so, missed.

However, I am comforted by the fact she was at home in Ben's lap, wrapped in her bed when she passed away and not at the specialty clinic or the EC. Miss Peanut it seems had other plans and didn't want to wait on me for a decision. Just like the Princess she is, she chose her time, and her way. Though it broke my heart, who am I to argue with a Princess?

Rest in Peace my little Princess Pea.