Everything sucks in 2023

We had to put Archie down yesterday. It absolutely broke my heart to make that call and I think I’ll probably be traumatized from that decision for awhile.

I wasn’t going to get into the details here. Mostly because it’s still so fresh and raw and I’m so mad. But also because I’m tired of crying. All day yesterday I was a mess. Today I just feel so sad and heavy. Like the weight of the world is on me.

To briefly summarize.... Archie essentially “beat” the Parvo. He was doing well, eating anything they gave him. But the aspiration pneumonia was getting worse. They were trying to taper him off of oxygen Thursday into Friday. They actually said we could probably get him home Friday night. I decided to let him stay til Saturday, then we’d take him home. Because he should’ve been “stable” enough by then and we could do all his meds orally since he was eating. Plus I was very frank with the vet. We were looking at a $20,000 bill and I couldn’t afford to keep him there.

Could I actually? Yes. I could’ve afforded to keep him there much longer. But was it a great financial decision? No. And do I feel like a piece of shit for wanting him out because it was costing a lot of money? Definitely.

Anyway. Late Friday night, I get a call that they had to put him back in oxygen because he wasn’t doing well. I thought it might be a hiccup and he’d bounce back the next morning, take him home later that day. But no. When I got there Saturday morning, he was still struggling. And he’d stopped eating again.

When I was there Thursday, I got to snuggle him for a bit. I had to wear an isolation gown and gloves but he crawled into my lap, nuzzled his nose beneath the neck of my shirt so his head was resting under my chin. We sat like that for a long time. And I was petting him and giving him kisses, telling him he’d be home soon. I also had this thought in the back of my mind like, “Maybe this is him telling me he’ll be okay. Maybe he’s telling me goodbye.” But it was such a weird thought to have (and morbid.... I didn’t want to accept that).

When I spoke with the vet Saturday morning, she said he’d need another 3-4 days with oxygen. And even then, she wasn’t sure if he would pull through. She knew my financial standpoint and was understanding. I thought about it and said I wanted to take him home. Let him get his morning and afternoon IV antibiotics and then we could manage at home. She said if we took him home, he’ll likely pass. I called Craig and told him I wanted to bring the dog home. He didn’t think it was a good idea. I said if things got bad, our vet is not even 5 minutes away, I’d take him there. I just wanted the dog home and warm and snuggled up surrounded by love.

When I went back to tell the vet my plan, she very gently told me she could not let me take Archie home. His breathing was bad and he would suffer and there was nothing we could provide for him at home that would make it any easier. She said my only options were to keep him hospitalized for treatment or let him go. So I called Craig again and said we had to put him down. And then I just shattered.

Like this dog didn’t even get a chance to be a puppy, to know love. He deserved so much more than this. He deserved a full, happy life where he was spoiled and loved.

Anyway. Before I start crying again.

I spent some time alone with Archie in the grieving room. He really was struggling without oxygen and I know it was the humane choice to make but goddammit it really hurt. He fell asleep in my arms and he looked so peaceful, but then he’d get these coughing jags and he’d gasp and have trouble breathing. It wasn’t fair to him. He was suffering. Craig came and cried with me for awhile. He held Archie while I went and took a walk for some air. I was anxious, angry, nauseous. How did it come to this? How did we beat Parvo only to go through this?

Craig stepped out after awhile. He didn’t want to be in there for the final moments. I stayed. It was very peaceful and I held him til the end. I kept telling him I was so proud of him for being brave and strong and fighting. Then I kept saying how sorry I was that he didn’t get more time, a better life. I’m just so sorry. I’m so sorry.

I can’t help but to think I pulled the trigger on him. Who am I to decide when to end a life? Who am I to say go ahead and end this dog’s life? I never had to make that choice for our family dogs and Iggy made that choice for us. How could I be so attached to an animal we only had for two weeks? I’m just devastated.

I put away most of his toys and his bowls and treats. Craig is probably gonna take down the crates some time today. It’s like he was never even here. How is this happening?

It seems so silly to be upset over a dog. But he was my baby. He made me feel…useful again. I didn’t mind getting up with him or cleaning up after him, he needed me. He made me feel…like me again. It’s hard to describe.

And now he’s gone and I feel empty and useless. Yes, I have the kids to take care of and who also depend on me. But there was Archie with his delicious snuggles and his nonjudgmental and his velvety soft fur and ears. And now that’s gone.

I know it’s fresh… I just feel so defeated. Depressed. Broken. I wasn’t even this upset when Iggy died. Probably because at least he had a fairly long life. Archie… didn’t get to experience anything. A few days with us and the rest as an isolated patient in a hospital. I know he was depressed. I hope he can forgive me.

I hate today so much. I just want to lay in bed and cry all day. I hate everything.