Today I got the call that Quinn’s diagnosis had been confirmed. She has bone cancer and likely only around 50 percent bone capacity which means at any moment, she could step off the couch or twist funny, and she could break her leg. During both vet visits, it had been suggested to put her down then and there, but the choice has been made to wait until Friday evening to give everyone time with her.
My heart sank. I know she is not my dog, but she lived with us for an entire year which means a lot of fun memories had been made. It’s hard to imagine her now coming for any more sleepovers or joining us for car rides to the dog park.
Abby was the one who called to break the news and my heart sank when I heard the heartache in her voice.
I gave Roo and Finny lot’s of hugs and kisses. This was awful news. I know the lifespan of these dogs puts her current age of almost 6 within that range, but it’s so hard to see a creature still so full of life, a playful moment away from excrutiating pain. The worry was that that moment, could happen while nobody was home. Quenching a thirst, chasing the cat, adjusting her position on the couch.
Their mom had an appointment so I sat with Quinn for an hour while I waited for the girls to get off of school. I took a few moments to enjoy her playful face enjoying the mild weather outside. We played with her toys inside, and then I enjoyed cuddle time on the couch to a couple of episodes of House. I worried the whole time with her playful nature, that she might break her leg pouncing on her ball or while adjusting her legs on my lap. I couldn’t live with that worry. What would you do with a 140 pound dog alone on a cold winters walk?
The girls and their friends came home one-by-one, and Quinn was excited with each new entrant. She stole an entire sandwich, and enjoyed being one of the kids.
It was a somber drive home, knowing that might be the last time we enjoyed couch time together.
I took both dogs for their separate 45-minute walks, gutted at the thought that I would never get stopped by passerby’s in awe of that majestic, gentle beauty, but also grateful to have these happy, healthy fur-friends in my life.
I tried not to think about it the entire time. It hurt too much. There would be more memories made between now and then.