This is not a post that I expected to be writing.
At least not right now.
Early last Sunday morning we had to say goodbye to our beloved dog, Turbo.
It has been so incredibly hard.
Saturday night Stuart and I went on a date and met up with his friend from high school that was in town for a family reunion. We had a fun time and got home about 11:30 pm.
We immediately noticed that Turbo did not run to greet us.
No biggie.
He was probably hiding because he got in the trash.
Chuckle chuckle.
We chatted with the sitter for a minute and say thank you and good bye.
It was then that we noticed that Turbo was not hiding (in our room usually) but laying in the hallway.
Stuart headed upstairs to find whatever it was that Turbo has gotten into.
Nothing.
But Turbo didn't really move.
He would sit up on his front paws and kinda drag his rear end then plop back down.
Strange.
After several attempts to get Turbo to come to us, we knew something was wrong.
Stuart carried him downstairs (not an easy feat with a 90 pound dog) and we started assessing problems.
He wasn't really moving his back legs.
He wasn't wagging his tail.
He was breathing really, really hard.
He looked miserable.
So I busted out my trusty Google machine and searched for paralsis with heavy breathing.
NOT GOOD.
Stuart decided to call our SIL (who is our go-to for all things canine) (mind you it's about 1 am by this point).
She talked us thru some things and it became more clear that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
We decided to call the vet and they said to bring him in right away.
Stuart and I knew, just knew this was going to be the end.
I carried his pillow to Stuart's truck and he gingerly placed Turbo inside.
I couldn't say goodbye.
Just couldn't.
I wept.
Big 'ole fat, hot tears.
Stuart came home about 4:30 am.
With no Turbo.
The vet said that there were a number of things that could have caused the rapid paralisis that Turbo was having.
All were bad and difficult to treat.
All were difficult to diagnose.
The best option was really to let him go.
Gah.
I hate even writing that.
But y'all, saying goodbye to Turbo was so not the hardest part.
Nope.
The hardest part was having to get up two hours later and explain to the boys why their dog wasn't here anymore.
Turbo was all they had ever known.
He loved them fiercely and let them do just about anything to him.
While they know that Turbo is in heaven (yes, we are choosing to believe that),
they don't understand why he's gone.
So we've been talking abut death and heaven.
A lot.
I mean every day.
And every time we pray at night, Tucker asks God to make sure Turbo gets some extra beef jerky or a bone or to swim in the lake.
And every time he says those prayers I cry.
I know that we'll get happier (insert vacation over the 4th of July)
but good-golly are we sad right now.
And that's ok.
Because we loved Turbo.
And miss him.
We immediately noticed that Turbo did not run to greet us.
No biggie.
He was probably hiding because he got in the trash.
Chuckle chuckle.
We chatted with the sitter for a minute and say thank you and good bye.
It was then that we noticed that Turbo was not hiding (in our room usually) but laying in the hallway.
Stuart headed upstairs to find whatever it was that Turbo has gotten into.
Nothing.
But Turbo didn't really move.
He would sit up on his front paws and kinda drag his rear end then plop back down.
Strange.
After several attempts to get Turbo to come to us, we knew something was wrong.
Stuart carried him downstairs (not an easy feat with a 90 pound dog) and we started assessing problems.
He wasn't really moving his back legs.
He wasn't wagging his tail.
He was breathing really, really hard.
He looked miserable.
So I busted out my trusty Google machine and searched for paralsis with heavy breathing.
NOT GOOD.
Stuart decided to call our SIL (who is our go-to for all things canine) (mind you it's about 1 am by this point).
She talked us thru some things and it became more clear that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
We decided to call the vet and they said to bring him in right away.
Stuart and I knew, just knew this was going to be the end.
I carried his pillow to Stuart's truck and he gingerly placed Turbo inside.
I couldn't say goodbye.
Just couldn't.
I wept.
Big 'ole fat, hot tears.
Stuart came home about 4:30 am.
With no Turbo.
The vet said that there were a number of things that could have caused the rapid paralisis that Turbo was having.
All were bad and difficult to treat.
All were difficult to diagnose.
The best option was really to let him go.
Gah.
I hate even writing that.
But y'all, saying goodbye to Turbo was so not the hardest part.
Nope.
The hardest part was having to get up two hours later and explain to the boys why their dog wasn't here anymore.
Turbo was all they had ever known.
He loved them fiercely and let them do just about anything to him.
While they know that Turbo is in heaven (yes, we are choosing to believe that),
they don't understand why he's gone.
So we've been talking abut death and heaven.
A lot.
I mean every day.
And every time we pray at night, Tucker asks God to make sure Turbo gets some extra beef jerky or a bone or to swim in the lake.
And every time he says those prayers I cry.
I know that we'll get happier (insert vacation over the 4th of July)
but good-golly are we sad right now.
And that's ok.
Because we loved Turbo.
And miss him.
1 comments:
Reading this several weeks late and it still makes me cry. Some paw prints are on our hearts forever. I believe he's in heaven too because there couldn't be a "paradise" without animals!!
Post a Comment