Today we said goodbye to our sweet Rose.

Today we said goodbye to our sweet Rose.  She had tasty bones this week and all of the playtime she wanted.  The kids sent her off with Oreos so that she could taste chocolate before she passed.  She had a swift and peaceful passing with me and Shaun present.

We spoke honestly and thoroughly with her vet upon our arrival.  I told him her history of not seeking shelter no matter the weather, of not trusting us despite living with us since she was 6 weeks old (she would be 4 years old right about now), about how any changes scare her, about how she stops eating, and everything we've tried.  We also let him know that her behavior (both regarding the tumor and the aggression we saw when she started Xanax) had escalated.  We stopped the Xanax at least a week ago, but she was still going after a few of the cats and had now begun growling at Cubba (the most recent incident he was simply laying on the couch). She also still did the "coochie-stomp and cry" with her tumor except that she was also starting to bark at her own rear end.  He said that it sounded like she had a neurological problem that training and medication wouldn't fix and that he believed we were doing the responsible and kind thing for Rose.  Shaun and I honestly feel the same way.

Once the paperwork was done they took her back and gave her an IV.  They brought a blanket in so we could be comfortable on the floor with her and sat down a container of treats.  When she returned we petted and loved her and gave her treats and comforted her.  She sat in Shaun's lap when it was time for the shots.  The sleepy shot went into the IV and before the doctor was halfway through pushing that syringe her whole body loosened in Shaun's arms, she yawned, and put her head down in my hands.  The doctor administered the flush, then the kill shot, and she was gone a few seconds later.  It was so fast and so peaceful.  Neither me nor Shaun have ever seen her look so relaxed.

It wasn't an easy decision, but through my time in rescue I learned that there are fates far worse than death.  With her reaction to change / stress I stand with her vet on believing that surgery was not a good idea at this time.  Maybe months of work with a behaviorist would have done her good, but the consultation alone was $650 with (obviously) no guarantees.  Meanwhile, she would still have that uncomfortable / outrightly painful tumor still growing inside her.  This was a perfect shitstorm where the loser was Rose.

Rose was another weird / quirky soul who we embraced in our home and our lives.  She was never an easy dog, but with the guidance of some of my super experienced friends we made it work... until we couldn't.  It never occured to me that she would have a medical issue so young or that it would happen at a time in her life when stressors were stacked to the point she was showing signs of aggression.  If I had it's entirely possible that there would have been time to at least work with a behaviorist and that this situation could've played out much differently.  However, that is not how things went and the best I can do now is say that I've learned some things.

Not to be gross or crass, but after she passed I asked the doctor to show me her tumor again.  It had almost tripled in size since her last visit to him.  I have a photo if anyone would like to see it - just message me or ask in the comments.  It doesn't bother me to send it or talk about it; however, I'm not tryna traumatize anyone or ruin anyone's day so I'm not posting out here to be seen while scrolling.  I've got a headache from crying and might not be by my phone all day, but I'll check in on and off throughout the evening.  For now, me and Shaun are trying to wind down and we're planning to spend some time with the kids as a family this evening.

To everyone who's tried to help me on this journey with Rose:  I appreciate your support and guidance more than words can say.  Thank you so much.  All of my love and gratitude to you for sticking by me during this trying time. ❤️