There’s good news in Mudville tonight

 

Sophie loves Jordan!
Sophies doctor, Derek Burney, is a miracle worker,
but so much credit for her care goes to Jordan and Christian.

Today, Thursday, is my regular day for my food blog, “Gourmet on a Hot Plate.” But I have been so overwhelmed by and grateful for your prayers and hugs and good thoughts for Sophie that I decided to bring you up to date. The recipe I had in mind will keep. Meantime, there’s good news tonight, but first here’s how the day went.

The vet called about 7:30 this morning. Miniscule was his favorite word. She might, he said, be a bit better but it was miniscule, and her chances for surviving this episode were miniscule. She refused to eat and had developed a bloody discharge from her nose. Her kidney numbers were only slightly better. It was time for us to come see her and talk. So I alerted Jordan and Christian. We were all convinced we were going to let her go. I packed up the insulin needles and some other things that we wouldn’t be needing but someone else could use. We were glum as we drove to the vet, though I did my usual when nervous and talked too much.

We were in the waiting room when Rachel, the tech, came leading Sophie on a leash. That was the first surprise: Sophie had not been walking when the Burtons took her to the vet. Rachel said that was new this morning—she’d been carrying her out to potty. And she said her demeanor was better this morning. We were shown into an exam room and left to visit with Soph. A year ago when she was so sick, Dr. Burney warned me that she would be mad at me, because she thought whatever was happening to her was all my fault. Sure enough, she was less than ecstatic to see me, but she sat still for Jordan to pet her—and when Jordan stopped for a minute, Sophie turned her head as if to say, “Keep doing that.” For Christian, she rolled over so he could give her tummy rubs. One factor: the two of them could get down on the floor with her; I can’t. They did pick her up a few times so I could whisper sweet nothings and promise to give her Velveeta if she’d eat enough to come hope. When the doctor came in, he said he was as surprised as we were.

I wouldn’t want you to think Soph is back “at herself.” She was on pain medication which made her even more lethargic, and she panted quite a bit, but she was enough better that I said I couldn’t think of letting her go, and Dr. Burney agreed. We are all comfortable with seeing what tomorrow brings. Christian is more worried about my bank account than I am—he says I can’t let this go on too long, and I understand that. But I just can’t say, “I’m glad you seem better, but I can’t afford to pay any more bills.” Life is too precious, and the burden of holding it in your hands is heavy.

I remember once running into a friend outside my neighborhood vet’s office. He said, matter-of-factly, “He needs a $2000 surgery, and I can’t afford that, so we’re going to put him to sleep this morning.” I was horrified, though I’m sure my friend, once a colleague, really couldn’t afford it. I’d have arranged monthly payments or something. As I struggle with the Sophie dilemma I think of the hundreds of people dying in Ukraine and Gaza, and I have concluded death at a distance and in mass, anonymous numbers is easier for many to tolerate. Up close and specific, it appalls.

Dr. Burney called this evening to report that Sophie ate a piece of lunch meat this afternoon and then, after a bit, ate another. That’s a really good sign. He says he can’t see her coming home tomorrow but he’s hoping for Saturday! I feel like shouting this news from the rooftop!

My good friend and neighbor, Jaimie Smith, sent me this quote from Joe Biden. It is so true, it made me teary, but I also think it speaks volumes to what kind of a good man our president is: “Dogs’ lives are short, too short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you’re going to lose a dog, and there’s going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with him. You can’t support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion. There’s such beauty in the hard honesty of that, in accepting and giving love while always being aware it comes with an unbearable price. Maybe loving dogs is a way we do penance for all the mistakes we make in life.”