Abi’s In Kidney Failure
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The vet just called, and the blood work shows that Abi’s in kidney failure. They want to give her more fluids, and I’m to pick her up about the same time, late this afternoon.
Acute renal failure can occur in a very short time frame. And that’s how it has been this past week. One minute, she seemed fine, and the next, she appeared lethargic and refused to eat.
I recall sitting on the steps at the vet’s office early Saturday morning and waiting for him to get out of his truck when he arrived. Even though we had no appointment, I knew he had to look at Abi. I knew there was something wrong that was beyond my ability to care for her.
It seemed to take so long for him to get close enough for him to hear me as I stood there by the door. I told him how worried I was about Abi.
He told me to bring her inside, and he’d take a look at her. And things went downhill from there.
Thinking Back On Abi’s Escapades:
I think of Abi’s escapades—memories stored in my head. Abi, furiously scratching at a blanket because she’d get so excited. Her little paws were moving so fast that you could barely see them.
Abi, making that weird noise when she lies on her side and is trying to convey her frenzied feelings to me.
The way her eyes always widen when she sees me walking toward the door with my purse. How she tries to keep me from going out the door to my car. Then, when she sees she can’t stop me, she tries furiously to sneak past my legs to go with me, barking furiously.
Both Abi and Charlie have separation anxiety, and I hate to leave them for any period of time. But there are places I have to go where I can’t take them, so they get left behind until I can get home.
Abi, a spunky little dog, is so full of life. She’s undoubtedly a drama queen and has weird, quirky ways. There has never been anything ordinary about Abigail Rose.
And now she’s listless. Sick, weary, and scared because she has to go to the vet every morning. And I have to leave here there till late afternoon.
She knows something is wrong. I can see it in her eyes. But I can also see how tired she is from trying to keep her body going when it wants to quit.
There’s Nothing More To Do:
There’s nothing else to be done. She won’t drink or eat. There has been no improvement after several days of fluids and treatment. No matter how strongly I’ve wished it, made bargains, and pleaded with the vet, this process remains unchanged.
How can I lose this feisty, sweet girl?
It seems impossible because she’s always been so full of life. But in the past few days, I’ve watched her fade away. Her eyes have an empty look.
I’m heartbroken. However long she has left, I want her home with me. I want to spend every minute with her. To soak up her presence.
I’m selfish to want to keep her when I know her body can’t fight anymore. I’ve never seen Abi not fight. Fight to go with me, fight to get out the door, fight me every step of the way.
Abi has always seemed larger than life. She’s always been such a spirited little dog.
I brought Abi and Charlie with me from Texas, and I remember stopping for gas once during the long drive.
As I pumped gas, both dogs stood at the window watching, fear in their eyes. They had no idea where we were going, or if we’d ever return to the only home they’d ever known. We were moving to a new home in a different state. Many changes were about to take place.
Settling In Tulsa:
Then we settled in Tulsa, and life went on. We no longer had to worry about “him” anymore. Those days were over. And now the three of us had our own little family.
Now one of us will no longer be here. And Charlie and I will be left to grieve this spunky, sweet little dog.
I’m bringing her home to die. I’d go pick her up right now, but he said she needs the fluids. I have been waiting and hoping. Hoping and waiting. Thinking maybe things would turn around and she would get better.
In these crucial next hours, I will talk to her, pet her, and give her all of myself. I’ll try to prepare her for something I have no idea how to prepare her for.
My own feelings of anxiety and fear will have to be put aside. And I’ll just be with her. Lie next to her; talk to her.
Tomorrow, she will leave this earth, and hopefully, there is a Rainbow Bridge for her to cross over to.
I will love her to the end and beyond, and be right beside her when she takes her final breath.
I am so very sorry. Please take some comfort that she was a very lucky dog and had a great life with you.
Nothing I can say will make you feel better, but please know that I am so very sorry. The only downside of owning a pet is that their lifespan is so much shorter than ours. I have grown to love Abi and Charlie through your posts, and little Abi will be missed by so many. Thinking and praying for you at this most difficult time.
I am so sorry Brenda. I was so hoping to see the update that Abi was doing better. My heart aches for you. Our furbabies are so special and are not with us long enough. Big Hugs to you and Charlie.
Brenda, I’m so sorry. I am weeping, as I feel like I know her. And you. I hope you have precious time left.
I’m so sorry. Her symptoms sounded like our yorkie but I didn’t want to say that. Our Yorkie was 11. She couldn’t breathe along with the kidney failure. I still miss her.
It’s so hard. Take your time to be with her.
Hugs
I am so sorry, Brenda, and sad for you, Abi, and Charlie.
How heartbreaking. I’m so sorry. I wish there were words to help you through it.
I am so sorry. All our loved ones want is to die with those they love near them. Words cannot comfort, but so many of us care about you in your sorrow.
I’m so very sorry. I know how hard it is. ☹️
When my little terrier died, my best friend sent me a poem written from the dog’s point of view. The last sentence was this: I shall leave this Earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.
Thinking of you, Abi, and Charlie.
Oh no, I’m so sorry. I went through that with my Bassett Hound Katie. My heart breaks for you I grieve with you. Hold her long and tight, time is precision. Brenda I wish I could do something for you and Abi, but my prayers are with you and both your fur babies. God bless . . .
I feel so bad for you. No matter what or how much we say, won’t ease the pain. My prayers for you as you go through this hard time.
If we could have coffee together today Brenda I’d say your brokenness is not too big for God.
It’s a crazy, upside-down way of thinking. But it’s true. God has used my brokenness in ways I never expected. It’s become part of who I am, a surprisingly beautiful part. Like a mosaic, God has put my heart together again. He will do the same for yours Brenda.
This is crushing heart breaking news and I’m so very sorry that you and Abi are going through this. She is your baby and you’ll ALWAYS love and cherish her memory. ?
Oh Brenda, I’m so sorry. I was afraid this is what was happening with sweet Abi because my Reggie passed away a few years ago from kidney failure. I wish I could go back to that day and ask to take him home with me, but I made the decision to let him go right there in the emergency vets office. So, I just want to say that you are doing the right thing by taking her home and just holding her and loving her. I’ll be praying for you & Abi & Charlie (((hugs)))
Dear Brenda,
I’m so sorry to hear that your Abi is dying. You are so right to bring her home to be with you for whatever time she has left. I am praying that you will be comforted by the support of your friends and family while you grieve for her.
Sincerely,
Alice g.
Sending love and light to help you through this hard time.
Brenda, I am so very sorry. I am crying for dear little Abi and for you. I’m glad you’re bringing her home to say goodbye. I wish so much that I had brought Otis home to hold longer. It was just too abrupt a goodbye, one that I was not prepared for, and it has haunted me to this day.
My love to that dear little girl and to you,
Dewena
I pray for a miracle, that Abi will be better, she will make a recovery in the presence of your love. I pray for you both, may all be well.
So sorry to hear that – it’s always so hard. Just remember that you have done all you could and gave her a wonderful life. It’s all in God’s hands.
Kidney Failure is what I thought was wrong with Abi. Twenty years ago our 15 year old 5 pound poodle died of kidney failure. He was having the same symptoms as Abi. My sister in law Vet who lives in VA and us in OH diagnosed our dog over the phone.As an RN I also recognized the symptoms of kidney failure. Thoughts and prayers to you. May God give you strength. Hugs and love to you.
I am sorry. I hate this part of our babies lives. I just HATE it. I am sending you prayers of comfort. I never met your babies but do know that I loved them thru all of your stories.
I am so sorry. Thinking of the three of you. ❤️
Brenda, there’s no words of comfort I can give you now. Our fur babies mean the world to us. I am thankful you will bring her home to be with you. You are in my thoughts. Love Annette
I am so very sorry, Brenda. I know it’s hard to think of right now, but Abi will be at peace when she leaves here to go to the Happy Hunting Ground. That’s what we were raised to believe, and I think there is such a place where all animals go, for I cannot believe that animals have no souls, not when they love us without reservation, especially our dogs – they have been our steady companions since at least 16,000 years ago, maybe even longer. I think we will be reunited at some point with our loved and missed pets some day.
Sending hugs to you, Abi and Charlie. Your joy and love is your two pupsters. Please know your readers will be here for you and Charlie during this sad time. Take as long as you need to be with your Abi, Kathleen, Zoe and Bella in Az
SENDING LOVE AND PRAYERS. YOU TAKE CARE OF THAT PRECIOUS BABY, AND YOURSELF.AND CHARLIE, WE ARE WITH YOU IN SPIRIT.
TAKE ALL THE TIME YOU NEED.
YOUR FRIENDS UNDERSTAND AND TO HELL WITH THOSE THAT DON’T.
Hugs and love.
Dear Brenda;
I am so very sorry, my prayers are with you and Abi. May God be with you both.
Brenda I am so sorry. (((Hugs))) to you and her. Take care.
So so sorry about your precious Abi. Take all the time you need. Grief does not have a time limit. Love on her and she will feel your love.