I guess you can say we’ve been “lucky.” The pets that have left us for the Rainbow Bridge have all been old. Losing an old dog is hard, but as a dog reaches the end of it’s typical lifespan you start to almost expect something to go wrong. And, while the loss is heartbreaking, it’s not entirely unexpected. This is the first time I’ve had a relatively young dog become severely ill…so ill that we might lose her. And Wow. This is a totally different experience.

I think I’ve held it together pretty well until today. I know it’s been hard for Ken. Harmony is, after all, one of his original 4-pack of dogs from before we met. I’ve been trying to support him the best I could and stay positive. I don’t think I really considered the possiblity that she’d get worse or that the doctors wouldn’t know how to fix her…or that she might not be fixable. With the decline in her condition overnight and the doctors still stumped, I think the realization that Harmony may not live has finally begun to hit me.  And I start crying roughly every 10 minutes. Ken is getting quite a work out coming out of his office to give me a hug and make sure I’m ok.

Of course, I’m sad that Harmony is sick. I’m devastated that we might lose a 6 year old dog who was seemingly happy and healthy a week ago. I’m frustrated and scared that we might not be able to figure out what’s wrong with her (I have no doubt that we have the best minds and most capable doctors on her case). I’m worried that if we find out what’s wrong with her, she  might be too far gone to help. And that impossible struggle of ‘how much treatment do we put her through’ has begun to ebb into the edges of my mind. Weighing the pain and suffering of her condition + the pain and suffering of treatment against the odds of recovery. Every time I even start to consider saying goodbye, my mind refuses to go any further with the thought. She’s only 6. And this is so unfair for her to be fighting for her life against God only knows what.

I’ve always been a cryer. It’s how I handle sad or stressful or even happy things. I can usually cry and get all the pent up emotion out in the open so I can then focus on what needs to be done. Not this time. It’s not working. The tears seem endless. I guess because there just aren’t any answers. No resolution in site. We can’t even be sure the meds she’s getting are helping and not hurting.

For those who have walked in my shoes, I feel your pain in a way  I never could have without being here myself. For those who have not walked this path, I pray your hounds stay healthy and that you never have to. Now, I have to figure out how to cope with this…trying to stay positive because right now Harmony IS alive and she IS fighting. And as long as that is true, I will still have hope and give Harmony every chance I can to come back home a healthy and happy hound. For every sick dog there is a scared, worried, frightened owner struggling to keep their head above water. I am no exception to that equation.

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