My Mao-mao is gone from this world.

Today the world lost a furry angel. He passed away today in my arms. He had been getting progressively sicker, not wanting to eat very much at all, even when I have him his favorite treats. He was becoming unsteady on his feet and generally had lost his lust for all of his doggie activities. It seemed that moving was a chore for him, and he was trudging forward despite his pain and rapid decline.

When he went to his vet specialist on Tuesday, she found he had a bleeding ulcer and didn't even bother to check his kidney values since she said last time he was in his values were shockingly high, and she was surprised he was able to even be up and around, most dogs with levels that high were not even trying to get up anymore.

We were lucky to have him as long as we did, and with her help, and the nurturing care of Mr. Dog (who gave him subcutaneous fluids 2x per day, and cooked him special meals to coax him to eat) we were able to keep him relatively healthy and happy for 18 months after his diagnosis.

My heart is truly broken, and I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of life without him, but I know we did the right thing for him. He did not deserve to suffer simply because I could not let go, so for him, I found the courage to say goodbye.

I love you Mao, I always will. And I know you are here with us always.

How do you say goodbye?

about 18 months ago my dog was given a tragic diagnosis. He has chronic renal failure, there is no cure, just a long decline ahead. He's had ups and downs over the past year and a half, but he's having more downs now than before, and it seems like we might be nearing the end.

How do you say goodbye to a dog who you think of as a child? A dog that was your first joint venture with your future husband? A dog that taught you how loyal and loving you can be for another being that takes you just as you are, no matter what kind of day he has? How do you say goodbye to the pup that was there for your wedding planning madness, and there for the photos after the ceremony? The dog that curled up on the bed with you when you brought your first human child home from the hospital? How can I imagine life without his happy dance when I come home, and his amazing sense of "cheese" that brings him running if I open a new block?
How can I expect to sleep soundly when his reassuring snort and snuffles no longer fill my bedroom with a constant rhythm? When his relaxed body is no longer sprawled across his bed right in front of the room heater luxuriating in the radiating heat?
The prospect of a Mao-less home is sickening. I can't imagine not having to dodge his sturdy body when I want to pass through a doorway he just happens to be inspecting.
This morning we went for a walk together, just to have some time together, he took in the scents of the neighborhood and I was almost able to pretend that he was well, and that this upcoming loss was nothing more than a horrible nightmare that disappeared when the sun came up.
How can I go on when he can't? I don't know. I just don't know.

Failing Kidneys, Broken Hearts

I am still trying to come to terms with the idea that Mao's kidney failure will eventually cause me to lose him. Slightly less than 18 months ago, our vet gave me the bad news. Mao's kidneys were beginning to fail. This is common in his breed, but I had hoped we'd be in the lucky group of shar pei owners that miss this sad and painful end. He'd been so healthy and happy. He had been drinking more and peeing more, but he was playful and puppyish. I was stunned.

After the initial shock, I discovered that this is not an immediate death sentence for dogs. That with proper treatment they can live on for months or years, but in the end, the damage can't be reversed and will continue to progress. We put him on a low protein diet. We made sure he got lots of fresh water and he seemed to be doing well.

It wasn't until a few months ago, I took him to the vet dentist to discuss having a broken tooth pulled that I discovered his outward appearance wasn't quite in line with his internal health. She did routine bloodwork to find id his kidneys were in god enough shape to risk putting him under anesthetic, and found that his kidney failure had progressed. Significantly. In fact, it appeared that one of the critical values had doubled. I was once again stunned.

We took Mao back to the internal medicine vet specialist, and she confirmed it. The kidney failure was progressing. It was inevitable but it was progressing faster than we had hoped. She did a check for a kidney infection and a few days later the test came back positive. We put him on a long course of antibiotics in an attempt to solve this. We did that and he seemed to be fine again. Another interval passed and he started to vomit and lose weight. Dave too him back to the vet and his values were up, way up. We started giving subcutaneous fluids and it helped, for a bit, his values went down, but then a few weeks later, they were back up. He'd lost more weight, he refused to eat his special food, but was mad for any table scraps or food dropped by the kids. We went back to the vet. We are upping his subcutaneous fluids and reintroduced the antinausea medication. We've scrapped the kidney diet and are feeding him a special home prepared chicken and rice combo that Dave has created. He's eating and seems to be feeling better, but I know it is all a matter of time.

I am struggling to understand how I will be able to carry on without him. I'm worried that I will be so emotionally devastated that I won't be able to help the boys understand. I'm worried that my own grief will be too great, that I will break because of this loss.

I don't know how to explain to my babies, my boys, that long before I was even sure I wanted to have human children, I was honing my mothering skills on my furry little ball of wrinkles. I don't know how to tell them that he has and always will hold the honors of being the first real mothering experience I had.