Our Dog is Dying

Today we almost put our beloved boxer, Delilah, to sleep. In April we learned that Delilah has a large mass in her chest. Cancer. I will likely never forget the vet’s words that day. “Today is the best day Delilah will ever have.” Delilah’s death seemed imminent. BUT. We’ve pulled out all the stops and managed to have a pretty great summer. She’s run and rolled in the grass every morning, although sometimes she is not up to it. She has the staff at our local coffee shop waving and saying hi as we pass by, often stopping for a frothy milk and carrot crumble muffin; all her own; she doesn’t have to share a bite.

We’ve spent many nights on the sofa recently hoping to be there for her quickly when she wakes up to pee in the night. We gave up on carpets mid-summer. I didn’t blink when the white rug I used to cherish went to the curb. It’s ok. It’s just a thing and she can’t help it. We have washable runners from Homesense on the floors now, and they are washed almost daily. My son’s dad (let’s call him E) missed his calling and should have been a professional caregiver. He has quietly taken up residence in my life since the spring. He is here to help and support me. E has saved me. I suspect we have saved each other, but that’s another story.

After making the difficult trip to the vet today, we had bad news. Delilah has an new form of cancer all over her body, unrelated to the tumour in her chest. He poor lips bleed. Her belly is covered in crusted over spots. She couldn’t lay down in the vet’s office because her hip hurts. She’s in pain.

What can we do? More pills, creams and injections. We can go hard in that direction, said the vet, but is it kind? Let’s think about Delilah.

E told the story of how his father had refused treatment in order to speed his death from kidney failure. I recalled running through the hallways of the hospital in the middle of the night trying to get someone to help my suffocating father, my daughter also at his bedside.

Recently I visited an elderly family member in a memory care unit where she is dying from lung cancer and has dementia. I thought to myself: I want to die before this shit starts.

I couldn’t sign the consent document so E did while I lay on the floor with the the wonderful puppy we brought home 13 years ago at six weeks old. She sat curled in my daughter’s lap in the backseat of our Volvo as we made the drive through rural Nova Scotia from Annapolis Royal to our summer home in Blomidon. We decided to name our new pup Kira. My daughter had enjoyed a book that summer called Kira Kira. I read it too. Summer is for reading and I liked the mother/daughter book club thing we did that July. But that was also when the song ‘Hey There Delilah’ was on high rotation on the family playlist, Before we made it home, we’d decided Kira looked much more like a Delilah. Saying goodbye to our old girl today brought that day whizzing back. I felt so sad for her. We weren’t giving Delilah an opportunity to say goodbye to the kids she loves. Today was not the day to do this.

We left the vet and will return when it’s right..

My son was immensely grateful when we told him what happened. I’ve sent a note to my daughter. I have no idea if she will read it or if she would even come if she did. Back in April, E reached out to her dad to let him know and to ask him to tell our daughter. I just sent her a note asking her to come to say goodbye to Delilah. God willing.

More than 13 years of pure love. Nothing could be more of a blessing.

Delilah when she was a six week old puppy.

Delilah had cancer on her face that developed in the last couple of months of her life.