Tulip, Requiescat in Pace
There's a well known and poorly sourced quote that in most forms says something like "if you have a dog you'll have a lot of good days and one horrible day." When your dog has been diagnosed with inoperable liver cancer and is close to fourteen years old, it's only a matter of time until the horrible day shows up. For Tulip, that day was Thursday, May 13, 2021.
Back when her tumor was discovered, one concern was that the tumor would put enough weight on her stomach to make her feel full and thereby discourage her from eating. We reached that point last week. Tulip had just recovered from a bad bout of diarrhea that required medication, which has happened sporadically throughout her life. She was just back to eating normally after a week of rice and boiled chicken, and then she suddenly ate almost nothing except the occasionally hand fed treat and a lot of water. M noted that her abdomen felt very swollen and full. The vet confirmed this via ultrasound on Wednesday. The most likely cause is that her tumor burst and the weight of the blood and liquid from the tumor caused the swelling, putting weight on her stomach. It doesn't really matter, because there was no effective treatment available, no medical miracle that would make this right. Per the vet, it was just a matter of time. We scheduled an appointment with the same vet who came to the house for Chucha last year.
On Wednesday night we drove down to Lakewood Park. This took two cars because Tulip was having a lot of trouble moving and couldn't be relied on to fit in the seat next to Birdie's car seat. She was also having a recurrence of her incontinence from last November, probably because the tumor was also pushing on her bladder, so putting her in my old car with a blanket instead of M's new car made a lot of sense. In any event, M, Birdie, Tulip and I sat in the middle of the grass far away from anyone and watched a spectacular sunset. Tulip was obviously in some pain, but she did bark at a few other dogs and, new to her experience, a fancy remote controlled car. On our way out of the park we even saw some skateboarders, which didn't get quite trigger Tulip's normally crazed barkfest but did get her attention.
I took Thursday off and it was thankfully a nice day out, so Tulip spent a lot of time sunning herself outside. She got all the human food, including breakfast sausage, boiled chicken, chicken strips, freshly sliced cantaloupe and assorted other goodies. We went on one last walk up the street and back. More excitingly, Tulip's fairy godmother Kendra happened to be in town and was able to come over for a good bye. As is appropriate for a fairy godmother, Kendra brought a McDonald's cheeseburger. Even sick and in pain, Tulip was very excited about a cheeseburger. Shortly after Kendra left, the vet arrived. We lay on the screen porch and told her she was a good dog, and then she was gone.
As last days go, it was a lot more pleasant than Chucha's sudden and unexpected passing, but I'm very glad that the vet was able to move the appointment from Friday to Thursday due to a cancellation, because I think another day would have been very painful for her. With that said, the last year of her life was pretty great, and while I'm very sorry that Tulip didn't get to the "catch food being dropped from a high chair" phase with Birdie that my sister's dogs are in with my nephew, she had a great life. I'll write a more complete obituary at some point in the future.
A last anecdote: late on Wednesday night, M heard Tulip going down into the basement, which was where she went when she needed to use the bathroom urgently and couldn't wait for our attention. We went to check on her, because whether it was the pain or the tumor putting weights on her joints or something else her back legs had started to fail and we wanted to make sure she could get back up the stairs. With help, she made it up to the living room where she sprawled out on her chaise lounge. Her unwillingness to make a mess where she wasn't supposed to and the cause of death put me in mind of this poem by John Updike, titled Dog's Death, which I first encountered in the anthology Good Poems.
She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"
We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.
Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried
To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.
Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
Back when her tumor was discovered, one concern was that the tumor would put enough weight on her stomach to make her feel full and thereby discourage her from eating. We reached that point last week. Tulip had just recovered from a bad bout of diarrhea that required medication, which has happened sporadically throughout her life. She was just back to eating normally after a week of rice and boiled chicken, and then she suddenly ate almost nothing except the occasionally hand fed treat and a lot of water. M noted that her abdomen felt very swollen and full. The vet confirmed this via ultrasound on Wednesday. The most likely cause is that her tumor burst and the weight of the blood and liquid from the tumor caused the swelling, putting weight on her stomach. It doesn't really matter, because there was no effective treatment available, no medical miracle that would make this right. Per the vet, it was just a matter of time. We scheduled an appointment with the same vet who came to the house for Chucha last year.
On Wednesday night we drove down to Lakewood Park. This took two cars because Tulip was having a lot of trouble moving and couldn't be relied on to fit in the seat next to Birdie's car seat. She was also having a recurrence of her incontinence from last November, probably because the tumor was also pushing on her bladder, so putting her in my old car with a blanket instead of M's new car made a lot of sense. In any event, M, Birdie, Tulip and I sat in the middle of the grass far away from anyone and watched a spectacular sunset. Tulip was obviously in some pain, but she did bark at a few other dogs and, new to her experience, a fancy remote controlled car. On our way out of the park we even saw some skateboarders, which didn't get quite trigger Tulip's normally crazed barkfest but did get her attention.
I took Thursday off and it was thankfully a nice day out, so Tulip spent a lot of time sunning herself outside. She got all the human food, including breakfast sausage, boiled chicken, chicken strips, freshly sliced cantaloupe and assorted other goodies. We went on one last walk up the street and back. More excitingly, Tulip's fairy godmother Kendra happened to be in town and was able to come over for a good bye. As is appropriate for a fairy godmother, Kendra brought a McDonald's cheeseburger. Even sick and in pain, Tulip was very excited about a cheeseburger. Shortly after Kendra left, the vet arrived. We lay on the screen porch and told her she was a good dog, and then she was gone.
As last days go, it was a lot more pleasant than Chucha's sudden and unexpected passing, but I'm very glad that the vet was able to move the appointment from Friday to Thursday due to a cancellation, because I think another day would have been very painful for her. With that said, the last year of her life was pretty great, and while I'm very sorry that Tulip didn't get to the "catch food being dropped from a high chair" phase with Birdie that my sister's dogs are in with my nephew, she had a great life. I'll write a more complete obituary at some point in the future.
A last anecdote: late on Wednesday night, M heard Tulip going down into the basement, which was where she went when she needed to use the bathroom urgently and couldn't wait for our attention. We went to check on her, because whether it was the pain or the tumor putting weights on her joints or something else her back legs had started to fail and we wanted to make sure she could get back up the stairs. With help, she made it up to the living room where she sprawled out on her chaise lounge. Her unwillingness to make a mess where she wasn't supposed to and the cause of death put me in mind of this poem by John Updike, titled Dog's Death, which I first encountered in the anthology Good Poems.
She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"
We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.
Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried
To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.
Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.