Jan. 6, 2009: RIP Caesar D. (a.k.a. CZ, CZD, Z, Snickey-Z, Nicky-D)

It is with profound grief and sadness that I announce that on Jan. 6, my sweet old man, Caesar D., passed away. For over 2 yrs., he had arthritis in his back end, for which he had aquapuncture (B12 injections) for the first 7 mos. after we moved into our new house. But in Jan. 2008, it appeared that he had a stroke, which left him in a fog, so I thought it would be best to stop driving him 45 mins. back and forth to Canastota to the holistic vet (Dr. Brown). Typical Caesar style, after a couple weeks, he improved and was out of the woods. I started him on joint supplements, and began giving him daily massages and stretching his back legs. During the spring, summer, and fall, it was apparent that old age was slowly taking its toll. He had a bit of laryngeal paralysis, and he could not last outside for more than 5-10 mins. on his walks when it was warm or hot outside. I also started watering down his kibble so he wouldn't choke. As winter approached, it was taking him longer to attempt to climb the two steps from the backyard onto the porch and up the one step into the house. Then on Dec. 11, his back left foot started knuckling (likely degenerative myelopathy), and from that point on, I had to pick him up and carry him inside. I had already been picking him up to put him in and take him out of the car, then up the few garage stairs into the house. For some time, I also had been pulling his legs out from underneath him b/c they got stuck when he sat or lied down, as he didn't have the strength in his back end to put his legs in their proper position. He also had gone deaf except for the ability to hear my high-pitched whistle. I also had to wipe his eyes every time he came inside b/c they'd water and drip, plus wipe around his mouth after he ate to keep that area clean. Anyhow, I took videos of the knuckling and decided to visit Caesar's veterinarian, Dr. Nicole Jordan (LVAH), on Dec. 15 so she could help me determine when it was time to consider euthanasia. We both decided it would be when Caesar couldn't hold himself up anymore. I said to her that it would be easier to make the decision if Caesar had cancer (little did I know). Cumulatively, this all sounds like Caesar was in bad shape, but through it all, he was a happy guy who loved life and still ate, played, devoured his treats, loved his walks, and was fully continent. He and I adjusted to each new challenge and moved on. He always either stabilized or rebounded. Even the knuckling subsided for the most part.

The day after the visit to the vet's, I went outside, picked Caesar up, and carried him onto the porch. I noticed a terrible smell, then looked down at my hands. They were covered with poop. I looked at Caesar's behind, and it was smeared with poop, and his back foot was bleeding, although I couldn't find a cut. I had been watching him through the kitchen window, but I have so many trees that block my view that I didn't see what happened. I was very upset, as I figured he'd fallen backward trying to poop in the snow, and now it "was time." So once I cleaned him up, I called Dr. Jordan and scheduled euthanasia for Tue., Dec. 23. A couple of days went by, and Caesar was doing fine, and I thought to myself that there's just no way I was going to put him down because of that one incident, so I cancelled the appt. Boy was I relieved, and so was Caesar. That day that he would've died, he nuzzled me when I got up, and he trotted on his walk. He was so happy to be alive. And I was really hopeful that he'd make it through the holidays and into 2009.

However, 4-5 days before Xmas, I noticed that Caesar was lifting his front right paw when he was standing outside. When he came inside, I compared wrists, and although I couldn't tell if anything was wrong with his right wrist, I knew something was awry b/c it was hot to the touch. I did some research online and thought it was an infection. Then he started limping (you can see him favoring it in some of the photos where he's standing) off and on; sometimes he couldn't walk well, and other times he trotted. The problem became more and more noticeable, and on Xmas Day at my mom's, I had to lift Caesar up the carpeted step from the enclosed porch into her house. On the other hand, my sister took him for a long walk and said that he did so well that she wanted to take him back out again. The day after Xmas, we had family photos taken, and I'm so glad I was able to get Xmas 2009 photos with Caesar (and Roman). That same day, I drove back home and had scheduled a vet appt. since I knew something was wrong. Dr. Jordan said she didn't like the look of the bones in his right wrist, and I asked her to take x-rays. Nothing could've prepared me for a diagnosis of osteosarcoma (bone cancer). At almost 14 yrs. old, where did it come from? This revelation solidified my decision to euthanize Caesar, so we scheduled it for Mon., Dec. 29. The day after the vet visit, we went out for a walk, and he stopped in the middle of the driveway and couldn't continue. That was heartbreaking.

The cold weather broke that weekend (Dec. 27/28), and it felt like spring, as we had rain and a thunderstorm, which was uncanny for that time of year. Caesar's love of rain and t-storms parelleled my own, so it was extra special. On Sun., at a record high temperature of 65 degrees, my mom and sister-in-law were going to Skaneateles Lake for lunch and asked me to join them. I put the boys in the car--Caesar loved car rides--and we headed to the Sherwood Inn. I put the window down so Caesar could smell the warm, fresh air, and I was so thankful that this beautiful day would be Caesar's last hurrah.

The next day, Mon., Dec. 29, it was 2 hrs. before Dr. Jordan was to come over to euthanize Caesar, and I had called everyone I knew--my rescue friends who had lost dogs, plus the directors of two greyhound rescue groups--to get their opinions on whether I should put Caesar down. My dog friends said don't do it and to wait until he stopped eating or standing...or when the bad days outweighed the good days. The greyhound groups explained how painful osteosarcoma was and said that euthanasia would be the right thing to do. However, one of the groups mentioned getting Caesar a splint if I decided to keep him alive so that when he broke his wrist, which was a given, he wouldn't be in excruciating, screaming pain, and I'd have a chance to get him to the vet and not have to rush to ER. So I called Dr. Jordan's office and cancelled euthanasia. I didn't feel right about cancelling like I did the last time, but at least that day, Caesar nuzzled me, followed me around the house, ate three meals, and was able to take a short walk--his last walk--in the evening.

On New Year's Eve, it had snowed a ton. Caesar got up early and was restless all day. He had a ton of energy and repeatedly spun around in the snow in the backyard. I was so thankful he was with me and Roman to ring in 2009 at midnight.

On Fri., Jan. 2, I took Caesar to see Dr. Bookbinder, a veterinary orthopedic surgeon, and he confirmed the bone cancer diagnosis and said it had crept up his wrist. I told him Caesar still ate, walked, and wanted to live. He suggested giving him steroid injections at the end of his spine to strengthen his back legs, so I agreed (unfortunately, it didn't help at all). Dr. B had also learned about customized splints from the same company that makes TheraPaw orthopedic booties (which Roman wears due to multiple corns), and he also told me about a physical therapist for dogs next door at Village Vet. Even though I now had some options to try to stabilize Caesar, I had a pit in my stomach. I knew I was likely grasping at straws.

That weekend, Jan. 3-4, the boys and I went down to my mom's. While Caesar was lying on his dog bed, I was in the other room and heard him scream. I ran into the living room and was trying to figure out what was going on. My mom said she didn't know what caused it. I just stared down at Caesar, and he stared back at me; his eyes were blank. I knew that was "the look." Then he got up, limped into the den, and stopped while holding up his front paw. I ran over to him, threw my arms around him, and burst into tears. My mom and I looked at each other and said it was time to call it a day. Once I got back home the next morning, I called Dr. Jordan, and we made the appt. to put him to rest the next evening.

Tue., Jan. 6, was a beautiful, crisp, sunny day. It hadn't been sunny all winter. I went about doing what I normally do, and Caesar was up much of the day...going outside, eating, enjoying his frozen treats, etc. I cut very small amounts of hair from the ridge which ran down Caesar's neck, plus his thigh and tail, and put it in a tiny plastic ziplock bag that I had set aside a long time ago for this moment. Around dinnertime, my mother came to my house, and we made a small memorial for Caesar, then laid out his beds and blankets in different rooms trying to decide where to have him euthanized. Caesar picked the spot...the living room, which is where he spent most of his time. Incredibly, and for which I'll always be thankful, he fell asleep on his own at 6 p.m. on a blanket we placed on top of his dog bed (so the vet could wrap his body in the blanket and take him away), while mom and I laid on the floor and stroked him (Roman was clueless, as he continued to sleep on the couch 2 ft. away). At 6:45 p.m., I put three sedatives in peanut butter and stuck it under Caesar's nose to wake him up, and he lifted his head and swallowed, then put his head back down on the floor while watching us with his big bug eyes as my mom and I lit candles. The fact that he didn't get up and continued lying down was the greatest gift he could've given me. Mom and I got back down on the floor with him and petted him as he slipped into a fog. My mom said his eyes had glazed over, and I asked her to close them, as I couldn't look and had my head near his bottom. We just sat there quietly, and I had my hand on his chest, which was moving up and down ever so slightly as he breathed peacefully.

The knock on the door came 10 mins. later at 7:20 p.m. I jumped out and ran to the door to welcome Dr. Jordan and her assistant. I introduced them to my mother, we talked about having a paw print made, Dr. Jordan looked down at Caesar and said he was out, I turned on the lights so she could see what she was about to do, I grabbed her arm and said "thank you," and then I ran upstairs while my mom stayed with Caesar. I went into my guest bedroom where the radio was blaring a beautiful piece of classical music, laid down on the bed, and plugged my ears. I waited and waited, and I could hear the music as Caesar crossed the Rainbow Bridge at ~7:30 p.m. My mom came upstairs looking for me after Dr. Jordan had left with Caesar's body, and she was crying "Poor Caesar, poor Caesar." I was calm--I was so, so relieved that he was out of pain--and thanked her for stepping in for me and being there with him 'til the end. Then we went downstairs, talked for awhile, and she drove 45 mins. back to her house. I believe I was in shock, as I sat down at my computer, sent out an e-mail that Caesar was gone, and was still OK when I went to bed.

That all changed when I woke up the next morning, at which time I was hysterical. Caesar's "energy" is what filled our house, which was now dead silent. We had been a trio for so long and now were just a duo. The house dynamics had radically changed, and I felt so off balance. I had to get out of the house, so I packed my bags, threw Roman in the car, then drove down to my mom's for a few days.

As the days progressed, I thought I had accepted Caesar's death. However, it's been over 6 weeks, and I still burst into tears every day when I realize that he is truly gone forever. He left a void that is inexplicable. The only item that I can grasp and that has Caesar's smell is his stinky stuffed sunshine toy, which I keep on my bed and sometimes sleep with. I literally have just about sniffed the smell out of it. No more click, click, click of his nails and his sniffling/whining while walking around the house looking for me. No more peeking through the screened porch looking for me inside. No more standing in the middle of the living room staring at me until I snapped my fingers for him to sit down. No more chasing his favorite stuffed toy. No more playbowing. No more bowing and barking, a funny quirk he had picked up recently, while I tried to get him inside for the night. No more jumping off the front porch step in euphoria and trotting as fast as he could down our walkway to start his daily and nightly walks. No more car rides. No more struggling to get up the moment I left a room to follow me around (even to the bathroom). No more stinky breath. No more devouring his frozen soy yogurt treats and peanut butter in his kong. No more footprints in the snow. No more soaking up the rain and thunderstorms. No more digging through the big pile of leaves in the backyard before circling and nesting in them. No more going nose to nose and looking into each other's eyes. No more singing to him "Snick, Snickey, Snoodle...Snickey, Snickey, Snoodle." No more nuzzling and pawing his face while I said, "Grandma for Z." No more.

Although I know that I chose the right day and time to end my precious boy's life, I wish I had more time with him. While Caesar and I worked together to overcome each challenge he faced, and I did everything I could to maintain his quality of life, bone cancer was no match for either of us. He was a fighter to the end.

* RIP, my l'il 'ole man. I'll never forget. Wait for Roman and me at the Bridge. *

ADDENDUM: On Thu., Jan. 8, Caesar was cremated. On Tue., Jan. 13, a week after he died, I went to pick up his ashes, which were brought to me in a large tin can. I couldn't believe how heavy his ashes were....about 4 lbs. The woman at Pet Haven said, "Well, he was a 64-lb dog." That broke my heart b/c it meant Caesar had lost 3 lbs. by the time he died. Anyhow, I felt a tin can was inappropriate, so I bought a cherry urn, asked the woman to transfer his ashes, then drove him home for good among a pretty pink sunset. That night around 10 p.m., I started shoveling. When I was just about done, for some reason, I looked up at the sky, which during wintertime is typically dull and gray. But this time, I couldn't believe what I saw--a brilliant deep blue sky with lots of clouds, some floating and some moving quickly. It was so clear that I could see the stars, including the constellation Orion. I kept staring above in awe. I had never seen such a beautiful winter sky. Right before I pulled my gaze away, one more thing caught my eye--a big, bright full moon hanging between the tree branches. It was all so surreal. I have to believe the sky had opened up for Caesar.

VIDEO

-- Caesar's last day:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXkFjiBDId8

PHOTOS:

-- Caesar's last day (captions are above each frame):

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=od1vsh2.5y5fvwfy&x=0&y=-ex5tov&localeid=en_US

-- Caesar in our first home:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=od1vsh2.4nlhncdi&x=0&y=-79djlz&localeid=en_US