Poppy's Last Day

I woke at about six on Poppy's last morning. She watched me leave the bedroom and return with her last thyro-tab (0.1), covered with cream cheese. She took it from my hand, and I went out to the den to open the patio door. A few minutes later she padded out.

Before taking her for a last walk, I surveyed the back yard. There on the path was a normal-looking #2. I never thought I'd be so happy to see one of these, because her elimination had been out of whack since the vet put her on the protein-restricted diet. Anyway, I pulled out her lead and a pet refuse bag, and invited her out. She bounded over with almost her former intensity, and exploded out the gate once I opened it. She soon ran out of gas, although we walked fully 20 minutes, about 1600 yards.

I do and I don't want to forget this day. The past several months, Poppy has been clingy. I think she's been feeling uncomfortable because of her kidney disease. Last week I was wishing that Poppy could pee normally. But as they say, "Be careful what you wish for," because yesterday she let loose with a puddle on the hardwood floor.

Carol would be out most of the day; I worked from home so Poppy wouldn't be alone in the house. The past few days I prepared her meals from leftovers. Poppy was refusing all the low-protein stuff we got from the vet, and didn't even want her old kibble. On this morning I put a little water and rice on the stove, and some salmon, with her close supervision. After it simmered a few minutes, I stirred in a fiber capsule, let it cool for a bit, and walked it to her crate. "Sit!" I commanded. She promptly obeyed. Placing her bowl on the floor, I said, "OK" and she fell to.

In a couple of minutes she found me and gave me her "More?" look. I scooped a handful of her formerly-favorite kibble into her bowl. She ate most of that, and then stopped. "Well," I thought, "She must be feeling better."

A while later, it was time to go to the bank. "Want to go for a ride?" I called.

She jumped off the couch and looked at me expectantly. I gathered my things and she followed me to the garage. The van is too high for her to get into by herself, so I lifted her onto my seat. She jumped to the passenger side as I climbed in. I lowered her window, belted myself in, and off we went. About half-way through town, she began looking toward my window. "Want to come over?" I asked.

At the next traffic signal, I scooted back a few inches, and she took a tentative step. I lifted her onto my lap, and she put her paws onto the door as the light turned green. A few blocks later, she wanted to go back; I gave her a one-handed boost to the passenger seat. She sat the rest of the way. My eyes were mostly dry on the drive.

I left both front windows open a few inches as I went into the bank. "I'll be back in a flash," I told her.

A few minutes later, I returned to find her in the driver's seat. "Excuse me," I said as I opened the door. She returned to the passenger seat and we went for her last ride back to the house. I gave her the last half-tablet of the antiemetic, to help her feel more comfortable in her final hours.

I worked another hour or so at my desk, then it was time for lunch. I heated some rice in the microwave and added a little leftover chicken juice. A few more flakes of salmon, some bits of chicken this time, and another fiber capsule went in, and it was lunch time. The same sitting ritual followed.

I teared up a little as I fed her for the last time. Well, almost the last: she came to me in the kitchen with her "Carrot?" look. I handed her one, which she cheerfully chomped. (She did that Monday, too, but immediately vomited the whole thing. This time everything stayed down.)

Carol came home to take Poppy to the vet for the last time. I just wanted to be somewhere else, so I gathered a few things and went to the office. Was I wimping out? Maybe. Poppy followed me outside. Maybe she suspected something was up, because when I leave I always say, "Be a good girl"; this time I knelt down and stroked her fur. "I'm sorry, Poppy," I said. "I'm so sorry." I'm sure she could tell I was really broken up about something.

I was there just a couple of hours. It was "Employee Appreciation Week" and there was an ice cream social. But I didn't want ice cream and didn't feel social, so I skipped it. I did something vaguely productive and went home. There was no jingle of Poppy's tags on her collar, no little footsteps as I entered the house.