Last Monday, Valentine’s Day, started like any other day. I got up, got Gabe up, fed, and dressed. The only thing that was different was the fact that Shawn was going to take Gabe to school while I took Mufasa to the vet. He had been having breathing issues since the summer. First it was diagnosed as a lung infection. That cleared, and when the breathing problems continued, it was suggested he had asthma. Then allergies. He had a chest X-ray done in September, and everything was clear. He had just developed allergies and/or asthma, most likely a by-product of his lung infection.
However, in the last couple of weeks, it had gotten worse. He was physically struggling to breathe. You could see his chest convex and concave with every breath. He was so loud, we had to kick him out the room if we were on the phone or watching TV. He was due for a rabies vaccination, so it seemed like the perfect time to go in and say, look, this can’t be asthma. If it is, please say we can do something.
Sure enough, when the vet saw him, she said his breathing was life-threatening. She didn’t want to give him any of his vaccinations until they knew for sure what it was, and instead took him back for new X-rays. She asked me to come back and look at the films, and she pointed out what she was sure was a lung tumor. She recommended that I go see a specialist so that he could get exams from better equipment so they could be sure of what I was dealing with. At this point, I was already tearing up. Our vet said she would call the specialist immediately to try to get us in ASAP. A woman in the waiting area asked me why I was crying. When I said he had lung tumors, she said her dog did too and had been living with them for a couple of years. I then became hopeful that Mufasa would have a similar diagnosis.
The specialist was able to see Mufasa immediately, so we drove off as soon as we got copies of the films. The specialist took him back for some more films, and when she returned, her face was very sad. She said that his lungs were full of tumors. The breathing issues were definitely from his windpipe, so she offered to do an exam to see if he had laryngeal paralysis, which could be fixed. However, if he had a tumor blocking his trachea, she recommended letting him go. My first words were, “This early?” As she said, “Yes, I’m sorry,” I started to bawl. She explained that since Mufasa’s films from September were clear, and now they were full of cancer, this was a very aggressive cancer. His fever at this point was already 105, and he had lost 8 pounds in two months, both of which were signs he had cancer and was in pain. I never knew he had a fever or was losing weight, because he never felt warm and he ate and drank and played like usual. I agreed to allow for the exam, which required a light anesthesia so they could intubate him. She said she would call with the results.
I came home, called a couple of friends and cried all over them. How could this be happening? I knew something was wrong, but to go from needing a rabies vaccination to discussing putting my dog down just a few hours later was overwhelming and surreal. I wasn’t home for very long when the specialist called me. Mufasa had a tumor so large that it was pushing over his epiglottis. She wasn’t sure how he hadn’t choked to death at this point. She said he needed to be let go and asked if I wanted to be there. I said I was on my way, and she warned me that Mufasa tanked on the operating table twice during the light anesthesia. If he tried to go again, they wouldn’t bring him back because that wasn’t fair to him.
He woke up from the anesthesia as I walked into the operating room. I asked the vet once again if she was sure there was nothing they could do, and if this was something she would do to one of her dogs. At this point, she was tearing up. She said she definitely would. I gave him a big hug, told him I loved him, and then held him while they administered the final anesthesia. As his breathing slowed, I told him I was sorry over and over. When the vet pronounced him dead, I literally threw myself across his body and cried. I have no idea how long I was there. They let me stay with him as long as I wanted, which I did, holding his paw until it went cold. I promised him he would come home.
I have never had to put a dog down myself before, and nothing could prepare me for this. No one and nothing can prepare you for what it’s like watching the light go out of your pet’s eyes. The vet asked if I wanted him cremated, and I said yes. I wish I could have done it for Krillin, but we just didn’t have the money back then. It was very hard, but I eventually walked out of the operating room and went up front to pay for Mufasa’s final expenses. This hospital was extremely kind to me in so many ways, including the end. They didn’t charge me at all for the laryngeal exam, just the office visit, anesthesia, and cremation.
I was extremely depressed for a few days after he died. As in, I was barely functioning depressed. I hardly worked, I didn’t want to spend time with Gabe, and I didn’t talk to my friends or play video games. I sat in my room a lot, with the lights off, crying. It just isn’t fair. I have had two “dangerous” dog breeds, and not only were both the sweetest, best dogs in the world, but they both left this world early. Places that normally would not take Chows for grooming, boarding, and even for veterinary services took Mufasa. He was my friends’ favorite dog because he was so laid back and sweet. Everyone loved Mufasa. He was such a blessing in my life, and I miss him terribly. I would gladly lose sleep every night over his snoring if he could come back.
So take care in heaven, my best doggie friend. Look for Krillin, Rin’s dog Charky, and Lisa’s dog Duke to play with. I will see you one day again.
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