Lola

I used to be able to speak.  I can't remember when I could anymore.  Now, I can't.  I threw up a lot, for days.  Didn't eat.  But I got up, and then got sicker.  And now I can't speak.  Or breathe. 

My baby is gone.  They made me pick her up in a box the first day I went back to work.  One week ago, Friday.  I put the seat belt around her and sat in traffic, petting a box instead of my dog.  

I don't know if I want to tell the details of Lola's death.  Everything has been such a blur that it is all mixing together.  I can't believe she's been gone ten days.  I'm afraid one day I will want to recall every detail, but won't be able to.  

It started on Thursday, August 3rd.  Lola was lying on her living room bed while Alec and I watched T.V.  She stood up and sort of froze in place, her eyes looking disoriented.  Alec and I tried to help her, tried to figure out what was going on.  Finally, we picked her up and put her on our bed.  She stood and froze again, then laid down, breathing a little quickly.  I called the vet as soon as they opened the next morning, from work.  They worked her in and I got permission to leave early, right after a meeting about how we shouldn't ask for time off during critical days.  Alec left his work early as well.  I picked up Lola and we met at the vet.  She was her normal, spunky self.  Our vet checked for signs of a stroke or seizure, and there was no sign of neurological damage.  She examined Lola all over and decided it was probably arthritis.  We mentioned that Lola had been a little resistant to eating her kibble in the morning, an oddity because Lola really liked food, but that she always ate it a few minutes after the resistance.  Our vet recommended ten days of painkillers, saying that discomfort might be affecting her appetite.  We made a follow up appointment where we were going to discuss acupuncture or natural remedies for arthritis.  

"We just did her blood work May 31st, so I don't think we need to do that again."  our vet advised.

"And, while I was examining her I checked for bumps and she is all clear."  she continued, brightly.

The bumps.  Ever since Lola had mast cell tumors two years ago, the vet has been screening her with X-rays every three to six months for a recurrence.   Alec and I regularly recorded any suspicious lump we found on her body, writing it in a little book and reporting them to the vet.  

Our air conditioning went out that night.  It was hot.  The three of us slept on our bed with fans pointing at us.  Lola and I were thrilled when a family friend texted early Saturday morning, saying he was going to be able to come out and fix our air.  Lola followed him and his helper around the yard and closely monitored their work on the air conditioner box.  I finally made her come inside, because I feared she would follow them outside of the gate while they came and went from their truck.  El amor de mi vida siempre quiere escaparse I explained.  My heart pulled when I heard her barking from inside.  She loved being outside and didn't like being left out of the action.  That afternoon, Lola struggled to jump on the bed.  I picked her up, and she let out a yelp.  I felt terrible.  Lola has a strong tolerance for pain.  If she yelped, it really hurt.  I laid on the bed with her, apologizing and petting her.  Then, I got my computer and ordered pet stairs so that she could climb onto the bed on her own.  We are going to fix this thing I told her we are going to make everything alright.  Mommy will go on a diet too, we'll both lose weight and the arthritis will get better.  The following Sunday, I spent the day trying to mentally and physically prepare for the first day of school.  Lola went outside to pee before bed.  When she came back in, Alec and I were completely alarmed to see that one of her eyes was blood red.  Not bleeding, but red like when a human gets punched in the eye and even the white part turns red.  The odd thing was that Lola was acting completely normal.  It was like she had no idea her eye looked like that.  

I called the vet as soon as they opened the next morning.  Parents were standing in line to register their kids.  I left.  The vet said they could work us in after school and asked me if Lola was wearing a cone.  She wasn't.  I took the appointment, then changed my mind and called back and asked if I could do one of the standby appointments where your dog waits at the vet all day for the next available vet.  Because she wasn't wearing a cone, I thought it would be better if they monitored her.  My sister and brother in-law picked Lola up and dropped her off at the vet.  She said they rode like a champ in their van.  Hours later, a vet called.  She had inspected Lola's eye and assumed it was some sort of injury, though she couldn't see signs of anything in Lola's eye or scratches.  She said we could do some blood work as a precaution and she started explaining how she could write up some options and have a vet tech call me for my consent.

"Look."  I said.

"The answer is yes.  No one has to call back.  I agree to all of the screens."

Then, I walked back inside of my fourth grade classroom.  

As dismissal for the first day of school began, I got a message.  

"Lola's blood isn't clotting as it should.  It's weird.  And it's serious.  Please call me back so that we can discuss options."

I dragged my walkers up the hill, desperperate to get them off the property so that I could call the vet back.  I saw a large portion of Eduardo's family waiting for his little sisters.  I was surprised when Eduardo himself popped out from behind them.

"Hey!"  I said, while motioning my confusion about why he wasn't at school. 

He and his aunt explained that he waited for the bus, but that it never came.   He was still wearing his school uniform.  I searched on my phone, trying to find the number for transportation for the school system.  I started sweating profusely, it was hot, but it was really because I was flipping out.  I actually found the number and someone even answered it.  They looked him up by name and told us a completely different route and bus stop than the one they published online for the parents.  I walked with his family until we figured out where the bus stop was.

"I'm glad to see you.  I missed you this summer."  I told him.

"But, we have to figure out how to get you to school."

He smiled shyly, brushing his hair off of his forehead.

As soon as they walked away, I stood at the top of the hill and called the vet.  

"Do you all use rat poison?"  she asked, trying to explain Lola's clotting issue.

"No."  I answered, alarmed.  I feared a certain someone I hate that lives nearby had poisoned my dog.

"Does anyone in your family take blood thinners?"  she continued.

"No."

"I would like Lola to be hospitalized tonight.  You should take her to Blue Pearl.  They have 24-hour care and I just....I think she should be monitored.  They have things there that we don't, they can do procedures we can't do."

I called my sister, crying.  She agreed to come with me to pick up Lola and drive her to Blue Pearl.  When we got to the vet, Lola burst out from behind the door, dragging the tech behind her.

"You're doing the right thing."  he said.

"It's precautionary, but you're doing the right thing.  It's just so weird...."

We arrived at Blue Pearl.  The drive over was pretty easy, I petted Lola's chest while she sat in the backseat like a human.  She sat in the middle so that she could be part of the action, not miss anything going on up front between me and my sister.  We entered and a while later, a tech came and took Lola to the back.  I watched her walk away.  Later, a doctor came.  She started talking to me and my sister like we were a couple.  We didn't bother correcting her, it has happened before.  The doctor started mentioning the weird stuff, the clotting problem and said she was going to give Lola platelets, basically blood, and that the problem was pretty easily solved.  We talked about rat poison and the mystery of what might have caused this.  She mentioned casually that she thought she felt a mass by Lola's spleen.  I directed her back to that.

"So, what would that mean?"

"Well, a dog can live without a spleen and maybe even part of their liver.  But if it went to the lungs nothing can be done.  But let's put that aside.  We are going to deal with the problem at hand."

Holly and I left.  Torrential rains started falling.  Alec called to see if I had picked up Lola from the vet yet.  He was worried about us driving in the rain.  I told him everything was fine, avoiding telling him that Lola was staying overnight at Blue Pearl.  I didn't want to scare him while he was at work.  The streets were flooding.

We arrived at my sister's house and I had a beer on the front porch.  I was starting to feel relieved, that everything was going to be okay.  Then, Blue Pearl called.  I was surprised to hear from them so soon.

"Lola has end-stage lung cancer.  It metastasized from her spleen to her liver to her lungs."

I can't describe hearing that.  There really aren't words for it.

"We can keep giving her platelets, but it's expensive so I wouldn't."  the doctor continued.

"I need to talk to someone about palliative care."  I responded.

She hesitated.

"She can see an internal medicine doctor in the morning.  He can do an ultrasound and give you more details.  But, we can also put her down tonight."

"No."  I responded.

"No.  Give her the platelets and we want to see that doctor in the morning.  Can I get my partner to call you?  I don't even know how to explain this."

She said yes.  

Lola had been wagging her tail and dragging people around on her leash.  How could she get put down that night?  We had to find out how to handle this.  She loved laying on her Coolaroo in the backyard in the sun.  We had to find out how to manage this.  Even if it was just a few months, or maybe she would be one of those dogs that went years beyond their death sentence.  Holly and Steve drove me home.  I told Alec.  I cannot describe the look on his face.  As soon as I said the words I started shrieking and crying.  All I can remember saying is I cannot live without her.  I cannot live without my dog.  It was the first time I would hear sounds coming out of me that I hadn't heard before.  He called the doctor and she explained it to him.  We asked for her to call us back after Lola's next transfusion, which would occur around one in the morning.  We set an alarm for ourselves and called them in the middle of the night to get our report.  They said she was responding well.  

We woke up the next morning and waited for Blue Pearl to tell us that we could pick her up.  I hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day but still managed to start vomiting.  I couldn't stop.  We started looking things up.  I finally asked Alec the dreaded question.

"Have you looked up life expectancy for something like this?"

He looked back at me, grimly.

"One to two weeks."  he responded.  

We drove to Blue Pearl.  I kept missing turns and ignoring lights.  I just couldn't think.  We waited in a room for the internal medicine guy.   I couldn't sit down.  A tired looking doctor finally walked in.

"You're dog is very sick.  The cancer is everywhere.  Even though she just had platelets, her red blood count is already down to 22%.  She's bleeding inside.  She could suffer a catastrophic event at any time.  She has a matter of days."

We asked if she was in pain.  We asked if we let her just bleed what her death would be like.  He told us she would get weak and have trouble walking, that most people wouldn't want to see their dog that way.

"I'm going to let you take her home, but...."  he began.

"She has to be with us.  I am not letting her die in some hospital.  She has to be with us."  I responded.

A door opened and Lola dragged a vet tech down the hall by the leash.  We put her in our car and took her home.  I had put her fluffy bed in the back, because she loves it.  

Lola and I laid on a blanket in the backyard.  It was always one of our favorite things to do.  I would drink beer and read.  She would lay next to me while I petted her.  We liked it.  Alec went to Whole Foods to get her a steak and cheese.  He went by the pet store to get her favorite treats and a little toy.  I noticed how pale Lola's gumbs were getting.  I called my mom and told her Lola was dying.  That she should visit if she could handle it.  I texted her dog walker.  I messaged two friends for advice, because I needed advice.  How do you know when it's time.  How do you know.  They gave me some really good resources.  The one that interested me the most let a doctor talk with you and decide when the right time was.  I contacted some in-home euthanasia companies.  I tried not to cry a lot.  Lola knows when I'm upset and I felt like I had to be strong for her.  I kept petting and kissing her.  The three of us went for a short walk around dusk.  We wanted to keep it short for fear of Lola feeling weak, but she still resisted when we rounded the turn to our house.  The three of us laid together in the bed that night.  Alec and I always used to kind of compete, who did Lola love more?  Sometimes we judged it by who she pushed against in the night.  The last night, it was almost like she divided her time equally, standing up, exhaling deeply, then flopping down next to the person who hadn't gotten her recently.  

I loved laying in bed with Lola, especially in the mornings.  She would squeeze herself between my legs and when she was ready, lift her head with this sleepy face.  I would always say good morning beautiful, precious, I wanted her day to start right.  I laid there a long time the last morning.  Alec made her breakfast and she stood up and jumped off of the bed, ready to eat.  After, we gave her the breath bones she loves.  She wandered around the backyard with a haunted look on her face and buried the bone.  We gave her another and she did the same thing.  We made an appointment for a when is it time consultation.  I set up the Zoom and Alec and I sat in front of the computer, Lola between us.

"She could have catastrophic event at any time.  She would collapse and struggle to breathe.  You would have to rush her to a vet for euthanasia.  If you'd like, I can gather my things and come right now."

"No."  we answered.

"Lola's grandmother is coming to visit her."  Alec answered.

"If my sitter can stay late, I can come at 7:30 tonight."  the doctor responded.

I texted my mom and family and Lola's dog walkers.  If you would like to visit, it needs to be now, I said.

We sat outside all day with Lola while people came to say goodbye.  We gave her frozen treats.  I watched her like a hawk, fearing the catastrophic event.  She continued to jump on the raised triangle in our backyard when other dogs would pass, but didn't bark, which wasn't normal.  Late in the afternoon, she got up there and didn't seem able to get down.  I looked at her face from across the yard.  Her eyes were running and she was panting.  She was looking straight at me.  I remember the time we were in a canyon in Texas and Lola overheated.  I kept walking forward so that she would follow me.  She would do anything to please us.  She had the same face on.  Alec lifted her off of the triangle.  Later, we gave Lola her last steak dinner.  Then, she laid on our couch, dozing in the air conditioning.  I put her favorite purple blanket on her fluffy, two-tier living room bed.  It looked terrible, like a death altar.  When the doctor was almost at our house, we let Lola walk through the house, deciding where she wanted to die.  She hesitated at our bedroom door.  We think she wanted to be on the bed, but couldn't jump up.  She walked toward the front room, the "Conservatory".  I followed her with her purple blanket.  I spread it out on the floor.  She laid down on it, and I laid with her, spooning her, her chin resting on my arm and her paw in my hand.  Alec let the doctor in.  She administered the sedative.  I kept kissing Lola's head and telling her how much I loved her, how grateful I was that she came to us.  Alec was in front of her, looking her straight in the eyes, doing the same.  Her chin pressed down hard on my arm.  I remember when the doctor gave Lola the lethal dose, Alec and I were repeating like a mantra thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you thank you for coming to us, thank you for being our dog.  I knew she was gone before the doctor said she was.  I heard myself saying I know you're in the middle, I know you're in the middle and we are still here...... 

The doctor asked us to help lift Lola onto the stretcher.  That's when I started screaming, when I saw her head flop down, lifeless.  I remember screaming Mommy said she wouldn't flip out, my baby, my baby and hearing guttural noises come from me.  I followed behind while Alec and the vet carried the stretcher out of our house.  Lola was wrapped in a her purple blanket and a big thick blanket the doctor brought.  There were straps around her.  When we got to the stairs the doctor needed help.  I grabbed the stretcher with Alec, nearly ripping it out of her hands.  I would carry my own dog.  We put her in the back of the doctor's black SUV.  It looked like a hearse. I covered Lola's eyes with the thick blanket.  Not because they were partially open, but because that's how she liked her blankets.  I kissed her.  Alec opened our gate.  I put my hand on the side of the car, on the side where Lola was laying.

The doctor pulled out and raced up the hill, headed west.  With my baby, my baby girl.