Today, after several tries, I finally got in contact with a hospice vet. It wasn't that I couldn't get a hold of a vet at first, in the sense that they weren't picking up or calling me back. I just couldn't get myself to press "send" in my email, or "call" on my phone. Once I did, however, I cried and held Hunter closer to me as I discussed his current quality of life with the person on the other end of the line.
I couldn't garner the strength to set up a date, though it was nice to hear a compassionate, experienced voice on the line. It's hard. It's so damn fucking hard! Words can't even begin to convey how hard it is to lose those you love so much.
Hunter is still here, at the moment. He is laying on my feet, snoring away as usual. But, he didn't want to eat this morning, and he refused to eat entirely this evening. He only ate when I began to pick and eat bits of turkey and steak off his plate this morning, but wouldn't even touch the steak in my hands this evening.
Hunter's always gone crazy for food. Just a few weeks ago, I caught him on one of the dining chairs trying to get to a slice of pizza my brother left on his plate. And, up until today, I couldn't even pull open a plastic bag without Hunter perking up. But now, as he sleeps at my feet and I snack on some gummy bears, he is ignoring the crinkling of the gummy bear bag, just like he ignored tonight's steak.
My chest literally hurts as I type this and watch his visible ribcage rise and fall. And it literally hurt earlier too, especially when he woke me up at 4:30 AM pacing around my bedroom whining, only to hack up another "present" for me in the middle of my bedroom floor. I raced to get him out of my bedroom and outside before he had another accident, but he refused to go outside due to the wind. He literally turned and tried to bite my hands as I was trying to pick him up. I was going to bring him out anyway (to a sheltered part of the yard where there was no wind) when a huge widowmaker crashed down from my Cottonwood tree, right where I wanted to bring him.
After that, Hunter let me pick him up without any issues, but I brought him into the bathroom instead, so he could do whatever he needed to do on tile instead of on carpet. I can't help but think there was some sort of Divine Intervention in that moment. Hunter has saved my life before. He brought me joy and comfort when I was at my sickest. He gave me a reason to get out of bed in the mornings when I was at my lowest. I can't help but think God gave Hunter one last chance to protect me very early Friday morning, when the wind was at its worst, and he was at his sickest.
Unfortunately, in the bathroom, he got sick a third time. Though, after that, he seemed to be feeling a little better. Still not great, but well enough to follow me back down into my bedroom, where I picked him up and put him on the bed. He spun around a few times to move the blankets around, then laid down in the crook of my legs, resting his head on my knees.
