The Indignity Of It All

Ottoman-shaped dog Thorbert had a difficult week, during which he urinated in the house a few times.  This is a behavior that is completely out of the ordinary for him, and is likely a sign that his bladder tumor is progressing.  Alas.  The veterinarian provided some information regarding additional chemotherapeutic agents that could be added to Thorbert's regime.  And decisions have to be made.

Both possible pharmaceutical options would involve frequent visits (up to once a week) to the vet's office, either to administer the agent or to perform a CBC to ensure the agent is not unduly taxing Thorbert's kidneys. Poor Thorbert; he shivers and cries in the car during the two-mile drive to the vet's office, and quakes and sheds his fur on the exam table.  There is no way to explain to him why an onslaught of frightening visits would suddenly be happening, or what the pokes and the prods and the medications would be designed to do.

Furthermore, while side effects would be rare, they would be possible, and unpleasant.  And even more, the expenditure would be extensive:  even assuming that the additional median time of survival could be gained, the price -- approximately $500 per month, or more -- is shockingly high.  That cost, moreover, does not even include the cost of Thorbert's present needs:  his insulin, needles, regular glucose checks, prescription food, or current medicines.

While Herself has never shied away from spending what money is necessary to ensure comfortable quality of life for her pets, this situation has risen to an entirely different and complex level.  If she knew that significant years would be gained for ottoman-shaped dog, she would certainly give significant thought to a few months' unpleasant treatment.  The cold fact of the matter is, though, that treatment will not cure Thorbert.  It will only delay the inevitable.

It's like watching him die by millimeters instead of inches, she thinks.

Her decision has been made:  let us provide ottoman-shaped dog with as much comfort and as little anxiety as possible in these end times.

Her silent prayer:  let it be quick, and as painless as can be. 

In the meanwhile, we do what we can to ease his situation.  We have even tried a belly band on him, to help him become accustomed to it in the event he needs to wear it more often to prevent further household accidents.  He seems perplexed by this odd piece of clothing.  It's a little undignified.  Ever stoic, though, Thorbert maintains his equanimity.

Good boy, Thorbert.  We are doing what we think will be best for you.  Please forgive us for any mistakes we make, for we make them out of love for you.