I try to lift him up to stand, but he wobbles and falls back down.
“It’s okay, pupper.” I kiss the top of his head and he licks my cheek. Biting my lip, I fight against the tears burning behind my eyes. I love this dog so much. He’s like another child and the thought of losing him is breaking my heart.
“Honey, why don’t you sit with him and pet him really nice while I go call the vet, okay?”
She’s already bringing his food and water dishes and penguin over to him, and plops down next to him, arranging everything within his reach while talking softly to him. His tail thumps weakly and he rests his head on her knee.
From the kitchen I call the vet and get an appointment two hours from now. Next I call Ditra and ask her if she can come over and hang out with Lyric while I take Acorn to the doctor. Thankfully, it’s Saturday and Dee tells me not to worry and she’ll be over in about an hour.
I’ve been in the waiting room, which is nicer and more comforting than my doctor’s waiting room, for three hours. Decorated like a farmhouse living room, with oversized brown leather couch and chairs, an electric fireplace, and vintage photos of dogs and cats on the walls, it’s very homey. In the corner is a credenza with a coffee maker, tea, water bubbler, and free homemade cookies. In any other situation I’d be all over those cookies, but I’m too worried about Acorn to indulge in snacks. Instead, I sit in one of the big overstuffed chairs sipping water and trying to read a new book on my e-reader.
“Miss Karel?” I look up at the tech who’s appeared in the doorway. “Do you want to come with me and speak to the doctor about the tests?”
I want to scream yes right in her face, but instead follow her down a long hallway with paw prints and numbers on the doors. She takes me to paw number five. Acorn is lying on a thick blanket on the floor, looking even more worn out than he did when we first got here.
“The doctor will be right in.”
I nod, planting myself on the floor next to my dog.
I smooth the fur from his face and whisper to him. “I missed you, pupper. Did they take all kinds of pictures of your insides back there?” A red bandage is wrapped around his front leg from where they took blood. I know Lyric will ask many questions about that when we get home.
The door opens and I can see a pair of black shoes a few feet away from me, but I don’t look up. I don’t want to hear what I know is not going to be good news. The vet’s tense energy is thick in the air and her mood seeps into me.
“Miss Karel?” she repeats.
I finally look up, because that’s the polite thing to do, even though she is going to destroy me in a few seconds.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. We ran a lot of tests and X-rays. We won’t have some of the blood test results in until Monday, but unfortunately what I’ve seen so far isn’t good.” She looks at her chart and I want to tear it out of her hands and throw it in the trash. “I’m quite sure it’s gastrointestinal lymphoma. There is also a large mass in his chest. Judging from the length of time he’s been in your care plus the condition of his teeth and other physical factors, I’m guessing his age to be approximately sixteen years old. I’m afraid due to his age and the location of the tumor, it’s inoperable. And the gastro lymphoma is obviously wreaking havoc on his body. He’s lost a lot of weight. You indicated he hasn’t been eating well and has had diarrhea...I’m very sorry.”
I blink at her, because just a few short months ago, my dog was perfect and happy.
“But he only just started showing those symptoms a few months ago. I didn’t know it was anything serious, I thought it was just old age. Up until today he still seemed happy.”
“Unfortunately, this is how these things usually present. It is very hard to tell if an animal is sick. They hide it well. They cannot tell us what’s wrong. There is really nothing you could have done to prevent this, Miss Karel. He just had his annual check-up a year ago and there was no indication then that he was ill. In fact, he was in remarkable condition considering his age.”
“Wh-what about chemotherapy?”
“I’m sorry. The disease has progressed too far. I don’t think it will improve his quality of life or keep him with us any longer. I’m so sorry, Miss Karel. I know how much you love him and how hard this is. We’ll have more results on Monday but I really think you have to think about end of life.”
I tighten my fingers in Acorn’s fur. End of life?
“What do you mean?”
She kneels on the floor beside me. “He doesn’t have much time left. This cancer is very aggressive. He’ll start to decline rapidly.”
“Will it be...terrible for him? Will he be in pain? And get sicker?” My voice shakes asking these horrible questions.
The sadness in her own eyes gives me all the answers I need. “Unfortunately, he will get very sick. If he were my dog, I wouldn’t want him to go through that. I would want him to pass peacefully.”
I nod and blink back tears. “Could I take him home and think about it for a few days? Let my daughter be able to say goodbye?”
“Of course. In the meantime I’ll prescribe some meds to make him a little more comfortable. You just call us whenever you’re ready and I’ll be here. My cell phone number will be on your paperwork when you check out. If you need to speak to me, for any reason, please just call me.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“I’m so very sorry. He’s a wonderful dog.”
“He is,” I say, looking into his big eyes. “He really is.”
A vet tech helps me put Acorn in the back seat of my car on the blanket that’s been his for years. As soon as we’re alone I crawl into the back seat with him and cry my eyes out. Acorn paws at me and licks my face, and I feel awful for falling apart on him. I should be stronger than this. I should be stronger for him.
“I love you so much,” I whisper to him. “You’re such a good boy.” His wagging tail makes me cry even harder. This isn’t fair. Life is so confusing and unfair and hard. I don’t want to say goodbye to this sweet dog. I want to hold on to his unconditional love forever. This dog has given me the only love that has never let me down. He’s never left me. He’s never been a confusing mess. He’s so much more than just a dog. But I cannot stand the thought of him getting sicker and being in any kind of pain. If letting him go on to his next journey is the last act of love I can show him, then I’ll force myself to do it, no matter how much it hurts me to do so.
When I get home, Ditra lets me cry on her while Billy keeps Lyric occupied. When they leave, Lyric and I gently take the bandage off Acorn’s leg and I explain to her that he’s very sick and needs to rest. I’m not ready to tell her yet that he’ll be leaving us. She’s tired and worried, and has asked if she can sleep on the couch in the living room with him. I want her to have this time with him so I pile the couch with pillows and blankets and put her favorite movie on.
After they’ve fallen asleep I kiss them both and then go to my room to take a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the heavy burden of sadness I feel, but it doesn’t work.
I call Josh, not expecting him to answer since it’s Saturday night, but he answers on the second ring.
“I was just thinking about you,” he says when he picks up. “I’m eating the ice cream you left in the freezer.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Hey. Are you okay? You don’t sound right.”
“No... I’m not.”
“Christ. What did that asshole do now?”
“It’s not him, Josh. It’s Acorn. He’s really sick. He has cancer.”
“What? When did this happen? I just saw him two weeks ago when you moved and he was fine.”
“I know. It happened so fast. I can’t believe it. I’m going to have to put him to sleep, and I just don’t know how I’m going to tell Lyric or how I’m going to get through this...”
“Piper,” he says softly. “I’m sorry. I love that dog.”
“I know you do. My heart just hurts.”