ARRSE Kennel Club - A Dog Owners Thread

Good news for a change - Lumpy Boy is lumpless and alive! :dance:

He's home and totally spaced out, unable to stand up yet etc but is dozing on the sofa under his duvet. The incision is nearly three inches long but looks good so far and the vet showed me photos taken during and after surgery - all went well.

The lumps have gone off for yet more histology because I may have found an alternative clinic to Cambridge for radiation treatment, so vet and I thought it prudent to be able to offer them the most up-to-date case history and test results.

I'm hugely relieved and grateful he's such a tough little fighter. :mrgreen:
 
Good news for a change - Lumpy Boy is lumpless and alive! :dance:

He's home and totally spaced out, unable to stand up yet etc but is dozing on the sofa under his duvet. The incision is nearly three inches long but looks good so far and the vet showed me photos taken during and after surgery - all went well.

The lumps have gone off for yet more histology because I may have found an alternative clinic to Cambridge for radiation treatment, so vet and I thought it prudent to be able to offer them the most up-to-date case history and test results.

I'm hugely relieved and grateful he's such a tough little fighter. :mrgreen:
Wonderful. So pleased for you both.
 
Thanks Monty. I have to say it's been really helpful to be able to share Brodie's saga on this thread.
We're not out of the woods yet but maybe nearly...
Maybe nearly is a much better position than a while back. He's a tough little guy.
 
Thank you all, for your kind words and support.

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

Please, NOT another day like yesterday.

I have recently become a very light sleeper, particularly over the last few months when I am/have been, conscious of the various noises made by my “lady” Amber, during the night, or otherwise.

A couple of times last month, I became aware of, and got out of bed to investigate, the nocturnal sound of her nails “click-clicking” over the hard floor coverings - only to find her (still) fast asleep, lying with her legs outstretched, and a little close to the skirting-board. Her dreaming and the movement of her feet on the skirting board caused the “click-clicking”, as she chased after tennis balls, or the neighbours’ cats.

I am confident that she has NEVER had any occasion to run-away FROM anything!

I have learnt to differentiate the noise of her various retching. I can (usually) tell if it is merely a clearing of her throat; or something regurgitated that she will re-consume and clear up herself; or something more substantial requiring my attention, kitchen roll and disinfectant.

Sunday night into Monday morning this past weekend, was particularly busy. So much so, that at 0500hrs Mrs RCT(V) told me Amber did not seem well. Amber did look particularly debilitated. So much so, that I thought it appropriate to stay up, and give her some comfort and support, just by being present. She was having more trouble than usual breathing. Her head/neck were outstretched and arched upwards. I remember that when suffering from stress headaches, the tension in my neck muscles, would have that effect on me. I hoped that she was not, now, experiencing headaches, on top of everything else. Most - if not all - the food she had consumed on Sunday, made a re-appearance.

As it got light - about 0600hrs - I got dressed, and carried Amber down the stairs (from the flat), and out into the garden. I know she finds it easier to breath out-of-doors.

She was hauled up, upon my lap (this is a 26’ish kilo Labrador!), for strokes and petting. Her ears and tail were down. Her eyes sunken. And, rather than the usual open mouth panting - to which we have become accustomed - a new, shorter, shallower, type of breathing, which I associate (in humans) of being in/entering, a state of shock.

Occasionally she would struggle to be let down, to wretch/vomit what ever might be left in her stomach - inevitably by now just liquid. During the course of the morning, she had a couple of “loose” bowel movements. Latterly, it was just blood. With arthritis on her front shoulder, and (now) quite obvious muscle-wastage of her back legs, each excursion over the grass was laboured.

You can imagine my state. Totally desolate and feeling wretched. I rang the vet, and between tears, asked if any of them were out doing their “rounds” as it seemed it was time to see Amber “for the last time”. They do not do house visits, and I would have to take her down to the surgery. I explained Mrs RCT(V) had the car, and would not return until after 1100hrs.

When Mrs RCT(V) did return home, she quickly appreciated the situation. I transferred Amber to her lap, and went inside to ring the vet and confirm when it would be appropriate to go down - after lunch/before their afternoon appointments, 1315hrs.

When I went downstairs and into the garden, it was to see Amber turning round to see me, her ears pricked, and a slow wagging of her tail, at seeing her “daddy”.

F.F.S.

At the surgery, the vet joined us on the bit of grass by their car park. I gave him a resume of the last eight hours, and why - IF HE AGREED - I/we had resigned ourselves to the seemingly inevitable. He asked if I was sure this is what I wanted? With some difficulty, between tears, I said . . .

Of course - bloody - NOT . . . I am happy to “nurse” her for another hundred years, but I am trying to think of her!

The vet bent down to inspect her. Checked the colour of her gums, felt her abdomen. Mrs RCT(V) and me, both stepped back. The vet stood-up to re-position himself . . . . and Amber was off!! . . . . Hobbling as best, as fast, as she could with the pain of arthritis in her shoulders, and without much muscle propulsion at the back, she was off the grass, across the bit of gravel car park, and her front legs on the sill of the open car door, waiting for me to lift-in her back end.

If I have tried to describe the confusion, desolation, despair (with which all too many of us will be familiar), so far . . . . now multiply it by a hundred!!

Between sobs, I told the vet I cannot NOW go ahead, and that if Amber was able to (literally) make a break-for-her-life, I had to respect that.

We decided upon a couple of injections to resolve the retching/nausea for the next 24hrs, and a course of antibiotics for the next seven days - which I took to indicate some optimism.

Fortunately, at home Mrs RCT(V) was able to produce a glass of rakja (that I did not even know we had in the flat!). Down-in-one, it didn’t even touch-the-sides, and actually had very little effect.

The side effects of the two injections, are drowsiness, constipation, and loss of appetite. I was therefore pleased that Amber at least managed to consume some boiled chicken yesterday evening.

She has virtually slept for the last 24hrs. I carried her downstairs this morning. She moved her head to have a mildly interested look around her surroundings. With nothing in her system(s), there was no indication that a pee, or a poo, was to be forthcoming, and she flopped down onto the grass.

I carried her back upstairs, and she ate a little more boiled chicken. She has spent the morning sleeping, and only just stirred to bring-up a little fluid - but no solid chicken.

After the last twenty-four hours, that will do me. The ever optimist, the next 24hrs will surely test that disposition!

View attachment 349549

Truly - a very - “Black Friday”.

Bowmanshill AMBER

15th September 2005 - 23rd November 2018

My “Lady” . . . the most gentle, loving, soul . . . has gone.


Against the advice of some - less knowing - others, but with the agreement of our vet, I have been “nursing” Amber, since I last posted.

Even if I/we had won the lottery, and could afford it, Amber was far too frail to consider anesthetising/sedating for X-ray/scans, let alone major surgery.

However, when I recently asked the vet for confirmation “Did he mean cancer”, I did seriously rebuke him for his previously evasive terminology . . “something else going-on” . . “something more serious”.

+ + + + + + + +

With this knowledge, I have been resigned to the inevitable, and have known what would eventually be required. But . . .

+ whilst her tennis balls were still chased around the lounge floor every evening;

Amber.JPG


+ when the sight of her food bowl caused her to “prick” her ears;

+ when outside the sight of a cat would cause her to (almost) “go-on-point”;

+ when I offered her my outspread arms and she would wag her tail;

+ when first thing in the morning she would announce she was a awake and hungry by walking the perimeter of my bed and every other step bang herself against the bed . . . .

I have done everything possible, to make her life tolerable . . . .

+ with the painful rheumatism in her front legs (going down stairs), and muscle wastage preventing her from climbing the stairs to the flat, I have carried her up and down the stairs since this summer.

+ either because of the cancer in her stomach/lungs, or (perversely), because of the anti-inflammatory drugs, the retching/nausea that has followed EVERY feed, has been accepted (certainly NOT scolded), and after she has enjoyed a second feed, re-consuming her previous meal, I have wiped the floor/cleaned the carpet.

Note: Over the months, I have realised that the sound of her retching, is an indication that she is not just hungry, but that she is hungry and NEEDS food. As mentioned earlier - this inevitably would reappear - BUT never more than what she had just eaten! So, although the initial consumption may have been a “shock to her system” and shortly be rejected, the second attempt was (usually) successful, and a day later would (reassuringly) re-appear out of the other end.

+ by trial and confirmation, I have learnt that, feeding her half the usual last twelve years’ amount - but twice as often - has relieved the severity of the retching. However . . . this does mean that . . . for at least the last month, I/she/we have NOT had more than TWO-hour’s continuous sleep during the night. That “sleep deprivation” training fifty years ago, finally found its purpose!! Four times a night, at the slightest sound from Amber, I would be out of bed, and putting out her food, without a thought or hesitation.

+ + + + + + + +

However, last night was different . . .

+ After the inevitable, anticipated, retching, Amber did NOT show ANY interest in re-consuming her personally “warmed” food.

+ She seemed confused and “uncomfortable”.

+ Three times, she stood at the top of the stairs - looking downwards - which was her telling me that she needed/wanted to go outside. Three times - in my nightshirt - I carried her down, and up, the stairs.

+ a couple of times she had a fit. Not the full-blown affair we experienced for the first time (maybe) a year ago. But, just a couple of seconds’ indication that all was not well.

+ Along with the erratic, short/shallow breathing, and exhausted long deep breaths, I noted the most serious indication of the “dead eyes” expression . . . straight at me.

From 0400hrs -to- 0800hrs, I was with her, giving whatever reassurance was possible with stroking her, and (even) talking to her . . . even if she has been deaf for the last couple of years.

+ + + + + + + +

From 0800hrs -to- 1000hrs, we both thankfully were able to get a couple of hours sleep. Although the prospect was actually irrelevant, with nothing in her stomach, I was pretty certain that there would be no retching, and put her on top of my bed, whilst I collapsed under the quilt. Snuggling-up to her - through the duvet - I fell asleep content with the sound and movement of her gentle (exhausted?) breathing.

+ + + + + + + +

At around 1000hrs, she woke both of us with the sound of her retching. I helped her off the bed, and struggling to stand she eventually wobbled towards the top of the stairs. I carried her downstairs. Outside, in the drizzle, she was confused, not really even looking around. However, conscious that (for what ever reason) she preferred being outside rather that in the flat, I lifted her into the car, and out of the rain. Wrapping her with a couple of coats to keep her warm, I stayed with her for at least three hours. As she was tired, exhausted, disinterested, and mainly sleeping, I resolved, accepted, that I could not be responsible for subjecting her to another night experiencing the discomfort and confusion she had just endured.

The vet’s surgery was telephoned, and I took Amber down, for 1530hrs. She was totally disinterested, not even lifting her head when the car door was opened. The vet and a nurse came out to us in the car park.

Knowing that on the last occasion, Amber had literally ran-away, from his colleague when I/we thought the time had come (see previous post), I suspected maybe a little haste with the procedures/vet’s attitude. However, it was done and completed VERY quickly.

+ + + + + + + +

Amber is now downstairs in the disused and cold public rooms of the now closed pub. She is still wrapped in the coats, and lying on a US Army “cot”, surrounded by her tennis balls, and the sawdust-filled, canvas “dummies”, used when we went field-training.

Tomorrow, I will arrange the hire of a mini-digger with which to bury Amber in an appropriate place.

This evening, I am totally lost and completely desolate. For the first time in over thirteen years, I do not have (“responsibility” for, or), at my feet, the most lovely, trusting, unquestioning, appreciative and loving being, that I have known in my seventy years.

Out of habit and disinterested, I will shortly go and sit in front of the TV - which might as well be switched off. Eventually, I will go to bed - with the prospect of a full night’s uninterrupted sleep. Whilst not wishing to subject Amber to the confusion of last night, I truthfully wish it were otherwise. I anticipate that out of habit (if not the demands of my aging bladder!), I will be awake every couple of hours.
 
Last edited:
Truly - a very - “Black Friday”.




My “Lady” . . . the most gentle, loving, soul . . . has gone.


Against the advice of of some - less knowing - others, but with the agreement of our vet, I have been “nursing” Amber, since I last posted.

Even if I/we had won the lottery, and could afford it, Amber was far too frail to consider anesthetising/sedating for X-ray/scans, let alone major surgery.

However, when I recently asked the vet for confirmation “Did he mean cancer”, I did seriously rebuke him for his previously evasive terminology. . “something else going-on” . . “something more serious”.

+ + + + + + + +

With this knowledge, I have been resigned to the inevitable, and have known what would eventually be required. But . . .

+ whilst her tennis balls were still chased around the lounge floor every evening;

View attachment 363279

+ when the sight of her food bowl caused her to “prick” her ears;

+ when outside the sight of a cat would cause her to (almost) “go-on-point”;

+ when I offered her my outspread arms and she would wag her tail;

+ when first thing in the morning she would announce she was a awake and hungry by walking the perimeter of my bed and every other step bang herself against the bed . . . .

I have done everything possible, to make her life tolerable . . . .

+ with the painful rheumatism in her front legs (going down stairs), and muscle wastage preventing her from climbing the stairs to the flat, I have carried her up and down the stairs since this summer.

+ either because of the cancer in her stomach/lungs, or (perversely), because of the anti-inflammatory drugs, the retching/nausea that has followed EVERY feed, has been accepted (certainly NOT scolded), and after she has enjoyed a second feed, re-consuming her previous meal, I have wiped the floor/cleaned the carpet.

Note: Over the months, I have realised that the sound of her retching, is an indication that she is not just hungry, but that she is hungry and NEEDS food. As mentioned earlier - this inevitably would reappear - BUT never more than what she had just eaten! So, although the initial consumption may have been a “shock to her system” and shortly be rejected, the second attempt was (usually) successful, and a day later would (reassuringly) re-appear out of the other end.

+ by trial and confirmation, I have learnt that, feeding her half the usual last twelve years’ amount - but twice as often - has relieved the severity of the retching. However . . . this does mean that . . . for at least the last month, I/she/we have NOT had more than TWO-hour’s continuous sleep during the night. That “sleep deprivation” training fifty years ago, finally found its purpose!! Four times a night, at the slightest sound from Amber, I would be out of bed, and putting out her food, without a thought or hesitation.

+ + + + + + + +

However, last night was different . . .

+ After the inevitable, anticipated, retching, Amber did NOT show ANY interest in re-consuming her personally “warmed” food.

+ She seemed confused and “uncomfortable”.

+ Three times, she stood at the top of the stairs - looking downwards - which was her telling me that she deeded/wanted to go outside. Three times - in my nightshirt - I carried her down, and up, the stairs.

+ a couple of times she had a fit. Not the full-blown affair we experienced for the first time (maybe) a year ago. But, just a couple of seconds’ indication that all was not well.

+ Along with the erratic, short/shallow breathing, and exhausted long deep breaths, I noted the most serious indication of the “dead eyes” expression . . . straight at me.

From 0400hrs -to- 0800hrs, I was with her, giving whatever reassurance was possible with stroking her, and (even) talking to her . . . even if she has been deaf for the last couple of years.

+ + + + + + + +

From 0800hrs -to- 1000hrs, we both thankfully were able to get a couple of hours sleep. Although the prospect was actually irrelevant, with nothing in her stomach, I was pretty certain that there would be no retching, and put her on top of my bed, whilst I collapsed under the quilt. Snuggling-up to her - through the duvet - I fell asleep content with the sound and movement of her gentle (exhausted?) breathing.

+ + + + + + + +

At around 1000hrs, she woke both of us with the sound of her retching. I helped her off the bed, and struggling to stand she eventually wobbled towards the top of the stairs. I carried her downstairs. Outside, in the drizzle, she was confused, not really even looking around. However, conscious that (for what ever reason) she preferred being outside rather that in the flat, I lifted her into the car, and out of the rain. Wrapping her with a couple of coats to keep her warm, I stayed with her for at least three hours. As she was tired, exhausted, disinterested, and mainly sleeping, I resolved, accepted, that I could not be responsible for subjecting her to another night experiencing the discomfort and confusion she had just endured.

The vet’s surgery was telephoned, and I took Amber down, for 1530hrs. She was totally disinterested, not even lifting her head when the car door was opened. The vet and a nurse came out to us in the car park.

Knowing that on the last occasion, Amber had literally ran-away, from is colleague when I/we thought the time had come (see previous post), I suspected maybe a little haste with the procedures/vet’s attitude. However, it was done and completed VERY quickly.

+ + + + + + + +

Amber is now downstairs in the disused and cold public rooms of the now closed pub. She is still wrapped in the coats, and lying on a US Army “cot”, surrounded by her tennis balls, and the sawdust-filled, canvas “dummies”, used when we went field-training.

Tomorrow, I will arrange the hire of a mini-digger with which to bury Amber in an appropriate place.

This evening, I am totally lost and completely desolate. For the first time in over thirteen years, I do not have at my feet the most lovely, trusting, unquestioning, appreciative and loving being, that I have known in my seventy years.

Out of habit and disinterested, I will shortly go and sit in front of the TV - which might as well be switched off. Eventually, I will go to bed - with the prospect of a full night’s uninterrupted sleep. Whilst not wishing to subject Amber to the confusion of last night, I truthfully wish it were otherwise. I anticipate that out of habit (if not the demands of my aging bladder!), I will be awake every couple of hours.
I am so sorry RCT(V). That was hard and raw to read, and I hope it will be of some comfort and support to know that internet strangers are thinking of you and Amber right now. You have absolutely nothing to reproach yourself for, or any reason to second guess yourself - you really didn't have any other decision to make in order to spare her from that final pain and confusion.

Please be kind to yourself. Even though you knew this was coming, the shock of the final day or so still takes time to process. I hope you have someone with you over the weekend, or someone you can spend time with for part of it at least.

Sympathy and condolences... :cry:
 
I'm so sorry to hear about Amber :( condolences
 
Truly - a very - “Black Friday”.




My “Lady” . . . the most gentle, loving, soul . . . has gone.


Against the advice of of some - less knowing - others, but with the agreement of our vet, I have been “nursing” Amber, since I last posted.

Even if I/we had won the lottery, and could afford it, Amber was far too frail to consider anesthetising/sedating for X-ray/scans, let alone major surgery.

However, when I recently asked the vet for confirmation “Did he mean cancer”, I did seriously rebuke him for his previously evasive terminology. . “something else going-on” . . “something more serious”.

+ + + + + + + +

With this knowledge, I have been resigned to the inevitable, and have known what would eventually be required. But . . .

+ whilst her tennis balls were still chased around the lounge floor every evening;

View attachment 363279

+ when the sight of her food bowl caused her to “prick” her ears;

+ when outside the sight of a cat would cause her to (almost) “go-on-point”;

+ when I offered her my outspread arms and she would wag her tail;

+ when first thing in the morning she would announce she was a awake and hungry by walking the perimeter of my bed and every other step bang herself against the bed . . . .

I have done everything possible, to make her life tolerable . . . .

+ with the painful rheumatism in her front legs (going down stairs), and muscle wastage preventing her from climbing the stairs to the flat, I have carried her up and down the stairs since this summer.

+ either because of the cancer in her stomach/lungs, or (perversely), because of the anti-inflammatory drugs, the retching/nausea that has followed EVERY feed, has been accepted (certainly NOT scolded), and after she has enjoyed a second feed, re-consuming her previous meal, I have wiped the floor/cleaned the carpet.

Note: Over the months, I have realised that the sound of her retching, is an indication that she is not just hungry, but that she is hungry and NEEDS food. As mentioned earlier - this inevitably would reappear - BUT never more than what she had just eaten! So, although the initial consumption may have been a “shock to her system” and shortly be rejected, the second attempt was (usually) successful, and a day later would (reassuringly) re-appear out of the other end.

+ by trial and confirmation, I have learnt that, feeding her half the usual last twelve years’ amount - but twice as often - has relieved the severity of the retching. However . . . this does mean that . . . for at least the last month, I/she/we have NOT had more than TWO-hour’s continuous sleep during the night. That “sleep deprivation” training fifty years ago, finally found its purpose!! Four times a night, at the slightest sound from Amber, I would be out of bed, and putting out her food, without a thought or hesitation.

+ + + + + + + +

However, last night was different . . .

+ After the inevitable, anticipated, retching, Amber did NOT show ANY interest in re-consuming her personally “warmed” food.

+ She seemed confused and “uncomfortable”.

+ Three times, she stood at the top of the stairs - looking downwards - which was her telling me that she deeded/wanted to go outside. Three times - in my nightshirt - I carried her down, and up, the stairs.

+ a couple of times she had a fit. Not the full-blown affair we experienced for the first time (maybe) a year ago. But, just a couple of seconds’ indication that all was not well.

+ Along with the erratic, short/shallow breathing, and exhausted long deep breaths, I noted the most serious indication of the “dead eyes” expression . . . straight at me.

From 0400hrs -to- 0800hrs, I was with her, giving whatever reassurance was possible with stroking her, and (even) talking to her . . . even if she has been deaf for the last couple of years.

+ + + + + + + +

From 0800hrs -to- 1000hrs, we both thankfully were able to get a couple of hours sleep. Although the prospect was actually irrelevant, with nothing in her stomach, I was pretty certain that there would be no retching, and put her on top of my bed, whilst I collapsed under the quilt. Snuggling-up to her - through the duvet - I fell asleep content with the sound and movement of her gentle (exhausted?) breathing.

+ + + + + + + +

At around 1000hrs, she woke both of us with the sound of her retching. I helped her off the bed, and struggling to stand she eventually wobbled towards the top of the stairs. I carried her downstairs. Outside, in the drizzle, she was confused, not really even looking around. However, conscious that (for what ever reason) she preferred being outside rather that in the flat, I lifted her into the car, and out of the rain. Wrapping her with a couple of coats to keep her warm, I stayed with her for at least three hours. As she was tired, exhausted, disinterested, and mainly sleeping, I resolved, accepted, that I could not be responsible for subjecting her to another night experiencing the discomfort and confusion she had just endured.

The vet’s surgery was telephoned, and I took Amber down, for 1530hrs. She was totally disinterested, not even lifting her head when the car door was opened. The vet and a nurse came out to us in the car park.

Knowing that on the last occasion, Amber had literally ran-away, from is colleague when I/we thought the time had come (see previous post), I suspected maybe a little haste with the procedures/vet’s attitude. However, it was done and completed VERY quickly.

+ + + + + + + +

Amber is now downstairs in the disused and cold public rooms of the now closed pub. She is still wrapped in the coats, and lying on a US Army “cot”, surrounded by her tennis balls, and the sawdust-filled, canvas “dummies”, used when we went field-training.

Tomorrow, I will arrange the hire of a mini-digger with which to bury Amber in an appropriate place.

This evening, I am totally lost and completely desolate. For the first time in over thirteen years, I do not have at my feet the most lovely, trusting, unquestioning, appreciative and loving being, that I have known in my seventy years.

Out of habit and disinterested, I will shortly go and sit in front of the TV - which might as well be switched off. Eventually, I will go to bed - with the prospect of a full night’s uninterrupted sleep. Whilst not wishing to subject Amber to the confusion of last night, I truthfully wish it were otherwise. I anticipate that out of habit (if not the demands of my aging bladder!), I will be awake every couple of hours.
Sorry for your loss
 
Deepest condolences mate.
 
RCT(V)
No words can make a difference........she was loved and cared for ....and in those final hrs you gave her the greatest . and hardest of gifts .....a dignified and peaceful end ....she can have had no greater love.
Now celebrate the good times and remember her as she was in her prime because surely tonight that's how Amber is........... watching over you.
 
@RCT(V) -
I have been there. You did everything you could do and you gave a life of kindness and love
You could do no more.
 
Thank you, everyone . . . .

Amber.jpg
 
Last edited:

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