Today, at nearly 11 years old, Rory succumbed to the cancer. We put him to sleep this afternoon.
We knew his time was limited, and he basically did make the two weeks that the vet predicted. Alas, the prednisone was no match for the cancer. He threw up his medicine last night and his breathing was not good. This morning, it was worse, and there was some bleeding. I took him to the vet, who said he was in bad shape and that we should end his pain today or tomorrow. I opted for today, after watching him struggle with his breath. I don't regret the decision. He's now without pain, hopefully in a better place. He went to sleep very peacefully after the vet administered the drugs. I think he knew. This morning he just looked at me with his one eye and I could see it was time. We decided to have him cremated, so that if we move, we can take him with us.
We had good times and bad - he weathered some intense surgery a few years back when he nearly died from bladder stones. He's had Lyme, he's been bitten or clawed by something, he's eaten things he shouldn't and ruined things- like chewing up the zipper on his sleeping pad, drooling and leaving white spots on the hard wood floor, mangled the gutter (I will never figure out what that was about, but I won't repaint it as now it has sentimental value). He put up with me putting stuffed animals on him, trapping him in snow forts (he LOVED the snow).
Toughest part will be coming home and not being greeted by him, wanting to go out, or hearing him barking himself silly at the squirrels, or whining for me to open the door when good grief, even the cat could do it. I will be vaccuming up his hair for months to come, I am sure, or begging for good. He did get his appetite back right before he went to the vet, scarfing down the forbidden whie bread, but we knew from watching his breathing, that letting him go was right.
And now, some pictures and videos...
Sitting on the rug, his favorite spot
In the yard, in the Spring, probably picking up those darned deer ticks.
Rory and the cat, playing. Yes, they loved each other quite a bit. When I came home after Rory was gone, I let the cat sniff the alligator (which Rory rested on in his final moments) and I think the cat knows.
As if anybody else is shredding tissues on the floor....GUILTY! ;)
Rory LOVED the snow. He'd stay out all day if we let him. He'd sit on the last vestige of snow as spring approached as if trying to hold on to the cold spot.
Yes, he was a shelf for stuffed toys.
Taken in October, when his eye hemorrhaged. He loved to sit in the same spot next to the patio, so much so, the grass is gone, the Earth flattened and impacted.
Oh yeah, he did not like the Cone of Shame at all, but he healed up so well from the surgery.
Laughing or yawning. I'd like to think he's no longer in pain and running green pastures, shredding weeds and chasing squirrels.
Shredding weeds. A favorite.
Frustrated by the fence cuz he's too fat to jump over it. Aw.. poor little guy.