Is making that decision to end a pet's life. I hate it. I loathe it. Yet it's one of the kindest things we can do. To end their suffering before it's unbearable for them. We've had to make that decision three times this year. Two days apart. We lost George on a Sunday, Gracie and Captain on the following Tuesday.
For people who read this blog on a regular basis, you know that Captain was diagnosed with chylothorax back in May and that our vet didn't believe in idiopathic (unknown origin) chylothorax, she believed Captain had cancer. We had him on Rutin which did a bang up job of helping his body process the fluid, but I guess this cancer abhorred the vacuum left by the absence of fluid and grew. It grew quickly. On June 26, the vet got almost 150cc of fluids out of his lungs. The following Monday she could get nothing. We said goodbye to him the next day, when he could hardly breathe.
I took this video the Friday after he had all of the fluid drained from his lungs. He was almost like his old self. Except his breathing was still labored.