Kym's Tale - Chapter Five - Being there at the end
Shortly after that Kym began to limp. We don't know what happened; she certainly didn't injure herself out on a walk. We just came home from work one day and she was lame. She didn't seem to be in pain, which made it even odder.
We took her to the vet, who x-rayed her and said she'd ruptured a ligament in her hind leg - common with big dogs, apparently - and she'd need an operation.
Oh, great. Among the numerous mistakes we'd made, we hadn't insured her for vet's fees. Not a mistake we'll ever make again!
The surgery was successful, but she didn't recover as she should have done - she was very subdued, and the toes of that leg trailed on the floor, which didn't seem right to me. When I took her back, the vet was worried too - I could tell. I left her there so that they could sedate and examine her.
I was at home when they rang me. There was a tumour in her leg and it was growing.
She had cancer, and it was spreading. Rapidly. There was nothing they could do. They recommended immediate euthanasia.
Kym was just 2 and a half years old. It wasn't fair.
I asked if she was in pain right now. They said not; she was still mildly sedated. I asked them to wait until we got there - it seemed only right that we should be there at the end.
It was the hardest decision we ever had to take. But she'd given us so much, and it was the last thing we could do for her. If we lacked the courage to be there for her at the end, so that she would not finish her life without someone there to hold her who loved her, then we did not deserve the devotion she had given us in her short life.
They are very good, our vets. They put her in an empty room on a blanket to wait for us, away from the curious eyes in the waiting area. We sat with her a while; she was sleepy, but she knew we were there and did her best to wag her little stumpy tail. We didn't talk much; there was nothing to say.
A technician came in to check a machine and then sat in the corner to eat his lunch.
When his sandwich bag rustled, sedated as she was, Kym raised her head and tried to sit up.
He looked at her, sandwich halfway to his mouth.
" Does she like cheese?" he asked. Daft question!
She ate both his sandwiches and then his KitKat. Yes I know dogs shouldn't have chocolate, but it didn't seem to matter at that stage.
And then she went on her last long sleep. No more pain, no more suffering. It was all very peaceful.
She had taught us so much about dogs, ourselves and keeping a sense of humour in adversity. She had made us laugh and cry in equal measure, and she was greedy to the last.
That's my girl.
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