Lucky is not purring
Hat tip for post title to Paula. (No link cuz if you're not invited, you don't need it, and if you are, you don't need it.)
In related news, Bailee's right knee is a hard ball of bone the size of a melon and her hip and spine are all crooked. She doesn't eat enough and much of what she does eat is apparently taken by the cancer, like humanitarian aid siphoned off by Hamas. She only gets up to eat canned food or play ball a little bit, hopping about on three legs, and has a hard time squatting to poop. She is sweet and loving and leans her head against me when I sit next to her and pet her, and closes her eyes. Her mama-human says she smells of death.
Okay ... CHEER THE FUCK UP! She's happy! Her son is a big overgrown oaf and gets in her way just like he's supposed to! Her quality of life ain't so bad yet and when it is we will ... take care of it. Send her to the farm, as parents used to say. We're not spending twenty four hundred dollars on an amputation with an eight month expectation of extra lifespan.
And no more purebreds.
3 comments:
Cute!!
Sorry about Bailee ... but yeah on the not spending money to prolong suffering.
Until we got Chelsea (Golden Retriever) and Beau (Australian Shepherd), we were cursed when it came to dogs. Ripcord (Beagle Mix) and Odie (Doberman/Dane) tended to get out of the yard and one day both got creamed trying to cross rush hour traffic to get back home. Cinders (purebred black lab) had an aggressive cancerous tumor in her eye that was likely to reoccur even if we took the eye.
We "stole" Chelsea from TUFKAS's mother because the 10 mo old 90 pound puppy was too much for her. We got Beau to keep Chelsea company after Cinders went to the farm. Both lived to ripe old ages, although Chelsea ALSO ended up with an aggressive tumor, this one growing in her arm pit rather than her eye. Beau died a happy old man with several doting bitches fawning all over him.
None of them got to play with a kitteh, though.
Sads for Bailee.
Totally understand. I think people spend and spend and spend not to prolong the suffering, but to avoid their having to face their own sadness.
It's the final responsibility we have to the creatures we take into our care; when they are young and playful and adorable and have interwoven themselves into the fabric of our lives it's so easy to forget that.
Mambo hanging on, I think he heard me on the phone with the vet earlier this week and is having a Monty Python moment. I'm paying very close attention to him hour by hour.
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