Gone, but never forgotten

We let Savannah go on Tuesday. It was probably the most difficult thing I've done in my entire life. We took her to her favorite vet, Dr. Joy, who has taken care of her since she was a puppy. Joy had a blanket spread out for her and she died in our arms surrounded by Joy's staff who have been with us on this long ride that has been Savannah's life. I am so sad. Inconsolable, actually. And I really miss my sweet baby.

My Savannah.

Savannah's dying. There, I've said it. It doesn't make it more or less real to say it. It is what it is.
The vets all agree. She probably has a brain tumor. That would explain her blindness better than the former diagnosis of Sudden Acquired Retinal Degeneration Syndrome. SARDS. A devastating thing on its own. But this brain tumor thing is really scary. Now I have to face all kind of questions. How long will she be lucid? Will she lose her ability to walk? Will she lose control of her bowels and bladder? How will it affect her personality? Would she die a painful death without intervention?
This poor dog has suffered her entire life. First with ITP--a horrible immune deficiency disease that kept her on heavy medication for almost a year. Then several bouts with pancreatitis....an offshoot of her ITP. This past summer we thought we finally had it licked. She was in remission from ITP and had just recovered from another bout of pancreatitis that had her in the hospital for a week. She was happy and healthy and enjoying life in general. She loved lying in the sun on our deck and going for long walks around the park. We live in a tiny community---about 8 small blocks of mixed-use construction with condos over quaint, chic, overpriced shops that cater to the wealthy vacationers who visit here in the heart of California wine country----and Savannah has become a favorite of the neighbors and shopkeepers. Some have a handful of "cookies" waiting for her when we visit and most let her in their stores to sniff around. She particularly likes Storybook Station because they keep a rocking chair with a stuffed animal in it out front that Savannah has been using as a landmark since she lost her sight in November. which brings me back to "we thought we finally had it licked". In November, we noticed that Savannah started bumping into a lot of things. She's always been klutzy, but this was different. She also started tripping over curbs and sliding down stairs. After about a week we noticed that her eyes were staying completely dilated all the time and had gone from a beautiful brown to a glowing green. A trip to the doggy opthamologist confirmed our fears. Savannah was totally blind and diagnosed with SARDS. If only that's all it turned out to be.
And now she is dying. She doesn't know it and she's as demanding as ever when it comes to her cookies. But last Friday, she had a grand mal seizure and ended up it in the hospital for the weekend. Roger took her to the doggy neurologist on Monday for a consultation. This morning she had another seizure. Milder this time, but still there. So now a tumor is the suspect. We will not have an MRI done to confirm it, because all of the vets have told us that any tumor large enough to sit on the optic nere and cause blindness, is too deep within her brain to remove.
So today I have spent most of the afternoon on the couch with Savannah's head in my lap. I have considered all of the options and come to a conclusion. I will NOT let this dog ----this wonderful sweet being, who has pulled me through so many tragedies just by sitting by my side---I will NOT let her suffer. It is a waiting game now. We know that we don't have much time left with her. But I will not let this tumor kill her in a long drawn-out painful death. She will die in my arms and will hear me say I love her and will feel my kisses on the top of her head. Daddy will be there, too, because she has always been there for both of us. It seems only fair that we're both there for her. And she'll know that she couldn't have been loved any better.