Last Tuesday he wasn't acting like himself, and on Wednesday night we brought him to the emergency veterinarian. When the doctor brought in his computer and showed us the x-ray we knew without a doubt what we were going to have to do. It's something that no dog owner ever wants to do. The x-ray showed a mass that was larger than the size of heart attached to his left lung and another mass attached to his right lung.
As I left (crying my eyes out) with the Monkey in tow I said the dreaded words that I never wanted to have to say.
Bring him home, Bimmer Man. Bring my dog home.
And so he did.
Thursday was a day for me and my Rusty. We hung out on the floor, on the couch. I told him how much he was loved, and I told him that for all of the years that he had been my rock and my comfort, it was now my time to be there for him.
For all that I hated vacuuming dog fur, tackling him when the mailman or the UPS guy came, dragging him out from under the porch, tripping over him while cooking, portioning out the disgusting salmon and coarse ground turkey (dripping animal blood everywhere...), getting a muzzle in my crotch, being hit in the face with a scratchy dog paw... I love him so very much. He was my best friend and all day companion.
I made him his favorite meal - bacon and eggs (which I'll probably never be able to eat again).
A wonderful veterinarian came to our house on Thursday night from Minnesota Pets. Rusty was surrounded by "his pack" and lots and lots of love.