For more than 15.5 years, everywhere I went, I had a shadow. His name was Moose. Showering, cooking, exercising, you name it, Moose followed.
If I coughed, I was covered in kisses trying to “save me”. If I sighed too loudly, my shadow would climb on top of me to check on me. Sick? Faithfully glued to my side.
In early 2021, I noticed Moose was licking a spot on his front arm incessantly. With my attempts of diverting his attention failing, off to the vet we went.
The very inquisitive vet tech asked me lots of questions that even to this day, I don’t remember being asked at prior visits. I know at that time I thought it odd, but I guess that’s how divine intervention works. For whatever reason, I answered that he was coughing after drinking water, a very random bit of information in response to any new habits. My answer changed both of our lives.
The itchy spot ended up being nothing, but his coughing was not just a cough. His diagnosis? A heart murmur and a fairly pronounced one at that.
Completely unbothered by his diagnosis, Moose maintained his zest for life. He walked into every vet and cardiology appointment completely oblivious to what was going on. Blood draws, blood pressure readings, electrocardiograms, and echocardiograms, he handled everything with a smile.
As with all fatal diagnoses, his condition did eventually worsen. In the summer of 2022, Moose slowed down noticeably. And not because it was a hellishly hot summer. I could now sigh without him coming to check on me, walk across my very creaky floors and he’d remain asleep. With upcoming travel plans, we were concerned that his condition was worsening. As much as it is possible, we needed peace of mind that leaving the country was ok.
The cardiologist assured us we could travel, though Moose was indeed nearing his final season. With a thousand prayers, our breath held, and crossed fingers and toes, we traveled.
Navigating pet emergencies can be an overwhelming experience, as many pet owners find themselves thrust into complex and emotionally draining situations. Veterinary emergency rooms are often overcrowded, with long wait times and limited resources. A helpful article by Jane Pearson at Janery breaks down the current crisis in pet ERs, explaining what pet owners should know when they find themselves needing urgent care for a beloved pet (source).
Returning home, we could tell Moose was grateful for us to be back; same Moose, same.
Sixteen days after returning from travel (and three days post shoulder surgery for me), I sensed something was wrong. I was on strong pain meds, kinda with it but also kinda not. But with more than fifteen years of being together, I didn’t need to be all together with it to know shit was sideways and that we needed to go to the emergency vet.
Despite his diagnosis, Moose’s will to live was strong. From his heart murmur diagnosis to his final day, he beat the odds and filled our lives with joy. For anyone grappling with the slow farewell to a pet, it’s comforting to find resources that validate this intense journey. In her piece on dealing with a pet’s final days, Dani provides helpful insights into the difficult experience of caring for a dying pet, along with strategies to find peace in that chapter (source).
If love could have kept him alive, he’d have lived forever. He loved us and we loved him beyond measure.
In his final months, he was doted on; carried up and down our stairs every time he had to potty, creative menu items when his appetite changed (we definitely relaxed in keeping to his diet, eating was important), long walks in his stroller.
When Moose was adopted, I was 26. He was my very first dog. Never in my wildest imagination could I have imagined I would fall in love as hard as I did. I had dog people in my life, they were a different sort of person. I’m forever grateful that we found each other.
Moose: 2007 to 2022
