The grieving process pretty much began months ago. She deteriorated rapidly through the summer, and my folks finally agreed to do an ultrasound and we discovered she had a mass in her stomach (very likely it was cancer). Before we could deliberate on whether or not to do surgery, she had a seizure on the way home from all the stress - to the point where she made an emergency trip on a stretcher to our local vet.
With the fact that she did not respond well to just an ultrasound, we felt confident that major surgery (where she would be separated from us for days) might kill her. So we began a treatment of steroids and painkillers to maintain her quality of life until it was
time.That pretty much ended up being earlier this month, as she stopped getting out of her bed save to pee and poop once a day. Eventually, she stopped eating her food altogether. The days leading up to the vet visit, the only food she would eat was cooked chicken fed by hand. To us, the dog we had died awhile ago; we were just trying to make things comfortable for her final days.
My brother couldn't even deal with an empty house, so he left completely. No joke. We grew up with her the past eleven years, and nobody will ever replace her, but we didn't felt the need to wait when we had essentially been in mourning for months. Especially when there was a dog out there in need of a home.
