In late April he was back to his old self. We were calling him Henry the Wonderdog. Then it all went downhill again. Not eating, barely drinking, I literally had to carry him outside and put him down in the grass so he could pee. We’ve been on death watch on and off for the last two weeks. Having the conversations about what to do when it’s over, and when is enough enough. Are we being kind to him by letting him live out these last few days at home or are we letting it go too far? Will we know if it’s time to just take him in to the Vet and get that final shot? There’s barely anything left of him. He’s lost a full third of his bodyweight, he’s down to sixteen pounds. (He’s a twenty-five pound dog.) We say goodbye to him every night, but he wakes up again the next morning, wagging his tail even when he doesn’t lift his head. We’re not rushing this, he can do it at his own pace.
Suddenly a couple days ago he was a little bit hungry and I got him to eat a few bites of the leftover chicken I had grilled the night before. By the next day he was eating dog food again. He’s had three meals today, is pooping and peeing normally, and hasn’t thrown anything up. Our White Shadow is back, following us from room to room, making sure he’s always close to at least one of us. He is alert, smiling, and enjoying getting petted and loved. He wanted to play fetch in the house with the ball again tonight so we did. He glides up and down the outside stairs with ease. Now we’re calling him White Lightning. The rollercoaster ride continues.