Our sixteen-year-old Chihuahua/daschund died this week. He and our thirteen-year-old Chihuahua had a bad case of flea infestation and were anemic. I supposed I had fallen behind on their monthly flea/tick pills.
I took the Chihuahua in first because she looked really worse than the older dog, but she responded well to the antibiotic and prednisone. The older dog was still going outside on his own and walking around.
One morning I heard a thump which woke me up. The chiweenie had fallen over, I suppose from weakness. I took him to the vet and got basically the same medication but he didn’t respond well. He stopped eating all together and regurgitated the antibiotic drops and prednisone pill. By morning he was yelping. I thought it was from pain but when I held him he stopped whining.
Sadly I admitted to myself it was time to let him go and be out of his misery. I was able to get a quick appointment with the vet. I held his little head until he was gone.
He was a particular favorite of my wife Janet who died of brain cancer in January. If there is any sense to be made of this terrible year is at least she did not have to mourn the loss of the dog. She would have cried. And nothing tore my heart apart more than Janet’s tears.