He grew old way too fast.
We
knew this. But hearing it from the vet whom he loved hurt much more than it
ever should’ve. We bought (shouldn’t have bought, but it happened) Mocha in
Chilliwack when I was 13 years old, just about to go into high school. My
brother was ten and my sister 16. My sister’s dream for the longest time was to
get a dog, and it’s kind of funny how in the end I was the one that I think
felt most connected to him and felt comfort in his presence. He had fleas and
bites and pain when we bought him and we didn’t know, the first night he pooped
on our floor. He was like 3 pounds back then. We all think the breeder lied to
us because he ended up being double his projected weight (20lb) and had huge
teeth made us think either wise. Oh, and that ugly underbite he had. So ugly
but so cute and so Mocha. The first two years we had him we definitely screwed
up training and he ended up confused, he didn’t socialize right as a puppy so he
was afraid of strangers, especially those who weren’t Asian and people with
deep voices and tall stature. He was a bit of an unpredictable one, he’d like
people and dogs for a bit and then suddenly turn on them for no reason. So many
things in our house before we renovated were torn up by him, tables, the walls,
his toys. We sheltered him a bit too much but it was our first dog so what did
we know? He bit a couple people even, but they always forgave him because he
was adorable. He was so afraid of new people that every time someone came over
we’d fence him up like a wild animal, but we couldn’t take any risks. I always
wanted to take him to professional training but my parents said what was the
point, he would be like this for the rest of his life. At one point we were
scared we would have to put him down in case he did something major, flash
forward 5 more years and we obviously didn’t have to do that except to end his
time here on earth.
Over the first 3 years we had altercations with our neighbors that I’d rather not talk about, just that we weren’t sure if he was our dog anymore - but they got two of their own pups and all was pretty much well. Us kids grew older and our priorities got muddled, we would fight all the time about who could take him out for a walk because we were too lazy, too tired, all that just to let him out to relieve himself. And what a most selfish thing to do, obviously we would take it all back. But we were kids….. but he was still our pup. We settled into our nice little routines, my sister went on exchange to europe, things changed here and there. But he was always with us, even when we were away and locked him in his crated area while he slept until we got back. Always the wagging tail when we got back no matter what. Even if he accidentally had an accident he would sit away from it and be so happy to see us. My mom always treated walks as if it was our lawful duty, even if it was pouring outside, to give mocha the exercise he needed even when missing one day wouldn’t change much.
He honestly never had any medical conditions other than minor infections until this year. He turned 7 in April, beginning his “old” ages. He was still healthy though, and for a lot of dogs .. 7 is not old at all. So many people I know have had dogs of the same type who have lived like 14 years. That’s double mocha’s age. June 2016 we were on a walk and he had some sort of syncope, but looked like a seizure to me. He fell into the gutter of the sidewalk and was covered in leaves and was dazed and confused for a while. Come the next 3 weeks and he wouldn’t go on walks anymore, would start heaving, and lie down in the grass. This began his 3 month decline and our distress, it was so heartbreaking. The vet told us he had a Grade 4 out of 6 heart murmur and started us on medication – his heaving got worse, he was trying to cough up fluid, and you could tell his body was working hard. More pills. He really looked like he was about to die before we added diuretics and more heart meds. VetMedin seemed to bring him back to life for about 2 weeks – he was running, happy, and jumping around within one day of taking the meds. Then the wheezing started again. He had congestive heart failure, and his mitral valve was failing. Fluid was coming from both sides of the heart to his abdomen and pressing up against his trachea and slowly drowning him.
I read online after so much research that dogs on the VetMedin lasted 1, even 2 years more than initially planned. Some sort of miracle drug maybe, but it was quite expensive as well. $100 for 100 pills and he took 3 a day. The cardiologist gave him 8-9 months without medications and he didn’t actually even live that long. He told us that once a year, a group of Japanese doctors go to Cornell and they could fix his heart. I just wonder what the hell the point of telling us this was when the waitlist was probably longer than the entire bible, I really don’t know. We never took him on huge hikes, and we will never be able to in the future. We missed our chance and I will regret it forever and ever. But a lot of people can’t do this, and a lot of dogs are inside dogs – he still had daily walks but for the past 2 months of his life he didn’t go any further than our culdesac because he couldn’t take it.
The combination of 4-5 new pills given at 7am, 3:30pm, 7pm, and 11:30pm including taking him to pee after each combination brought a new responsibility to me. His life literally relied on me. My family had left to go on a trip for quite a long time and this is where me and Mocha bonded the most. He relied on me to live, and taking care of the house and my brother and the dog taught me a shitload of new things. I’d update everyone across the world on something that happened and make sure that he was okay. There were a few scares but I took them on because I just really did not want mocha to be hurting. But at the same time I was so tired. I just wanted sleep but I wanted things to be okay and this is where other parts of my life suffered too.
Starting Oct 16/16 the week before he passed, he stopped eating his food. We really had to force feed him chicken and vegetables, and gave him lots of food that we originally deemed fatty or not allowed to him. Layered rice under his kibble, topped with chicken and bread, and he would touch a bit of it and then walk away. He was healthy before, a bit on the chubby side, but lost like 25% of his body weight by the time all of this ended. You could see his ribs, you could see how fast his heart beat against his chest to help him live, and just how dainty he had become when we picked him up. We gave him the ugliest haircut ever because we couldn’t take him to the groomers for safety reasons.
On Saturday, Oct 22, he began wheezing around 3pm and it was bad. He couldn’t lie down, and I knew something was wrong. He was uncomfortable. His abdomen was bloated and tight. He was restless. The last time he sat in my bed I held him and hugged him because for the first time in awhile I was pretty scared for him again. Little did I know all the signs from the past week and a half were all the signs of last stage congestive heart failure. His head was outstretched because he couldn’t breathe anymore. By dinner time, I told my parents if he doesn’t go to the emergency that night he might die in his sleep. They were skeptical because of the money; I told my sister, and she didn’t’ believe me either. Until she got home after dinner and looked him in the eyes and said we have to bring him now.
When we got there, they told us what I had expected but what my sister wasn’t prepared for. We could have kept him there for a week and paid like $6000, but he might not even live after that. We originally planned to keep him there for a day and then perhaps euthanize him the next day (Sunday) but it was something we had to discuss at home. We brought him home against the hospital’s suggestions and you could tell it was his time to go. He would have probably died that night in his sleep, drowning while standing up. We called the neighbors over and cried, and it was time to take him away. My neighbors had just as much a part in his life as we did, and as I carried mocha to the car I kept going back to them telling them to kiss mochas head to say their last goodbyes. When I took mocha out of the house he was running away from me. He knew. He looked up at me and I knew from his eyes that it was time. It was heartbreaking.
I let him sit in the front seat in my moms lap and his wheezing stopped. He knew he was going to be gone shortly. They took him away and put the catheter in and brought us to the room. A set of five or so needles with sedation ones first were administered, and he just plopped down into my dads hands. He laid there, breathing, but with no struggle. He was already suffering.
We all put our hands on him. My hand was on his chest, I could feel his heartbeat. Of course we were all crying. She administered the blue euthanization needle and I felt his heart slow until there was no beat at all. By the end of it I found myself whispering Oh my god. He’s gone. The vet left the room and said take all the time you need.
My dad cried a bit but he knew it had to be done. He was the first one out of the room. Then my mom. Then us siblings kept going back and back to kiss his head and say goodbye. We covered him with a towel and I’d never felt more pain in my life. My heart was and is so heavy, and knowing he was dying makes me so so upset. I will never forget these grave moments, when life was taken away so quickly in something so sweet over a short amount of months.
People loved his sweet, sweet face and would always ask if he was a girl because he was so “pretty”. The way he walked, confident and on his tip toes was so adorable. The way he slept and ran in his sleep while I was doing homework I’m going to miss. The dogs he got along with and loved won’t ever see him again but they haven’t seen him for a long time anyways. I’ll never hear the pitter patter of his nails and paws against the floor anymore or him jumping up to my bed and licking my face to wake me up…
I grew up through the toughest years with that dog. We all did. Everything in my house reminds me of him, I keep waking up and thinking it’ll all be a dream. I don’t even want to wake up these days and have to unlearn things like closing doors after me in the house for no reason now and just going downstairs to see what’s going on. I think one of the worst things that everyone who has known him and been to my house over the weekend realizes is how quiet it is. Even from upstairs you can usually hear his collar sound clashing against something, him jumping on sofas, my mom cooking and you can hear him walking. Now there’s nothing. I’m scared for my mom the most because when we’re at school or work, she always had him. He would sit with her and watch tv every single day. Watch her cook, he was her responsibility in the mornings, a routine that got her outside. A reason to wake up to take him out for walks. Now, it’s not the same, walking around the park outside by yourself. It’s just simply not the same. I just miss him so much. I really miss him just lying on my bed while I do my thing. Sleeping all curled up in the cutest way like a little fox. I miss the way he smells and the way his fur feels, so soft against my skin.
He had a chair in the kitchen that faced a huge window that he would lie down and sit and sleep and watch birds from. That chair is empty now. The entire section behind the couch is left empty, and I’m not sure what we should do with it. It seems disrespectful to move the chair. But, every time I look at it I start sobbing. Hell, every time I go downstairs and don’t see a dog running around I start bawling my eyes out.
On my way to and from school today I put on my skyrim music because that’s what I do when songs with words just don’t fit. Streets of Whiterun played and I couldn’t help but imagine my dog running around in heaven or something, with his favorite red ball in his mouth, barking loudly, or playing with other huge dogs in a meadow. And that made me cry so hard.. in public. I am happy he isn’t suffering anymore, but I just wish we had more time with him. I am not an especially religious person, but the night we got home after he passed I found myself praying to someone, anyone, to take care of him wherever he is right now.
I cried so hard because in this dog I lost a part of myself too. I think we all did. Mocha was a personification of home, I had never felt lonely when I was “alone” home because I never actually was and I didn’t even realize that till today. But I really feel alone now. It’s just way too quiet. Whenever we’re out as a family without him, we always rush home within at least 6-7 hours to take him out or play with him. That brought us back home always. Now that isn’t necessarily the case.
The only vet crew he loved would always kiss him on the head. The doctor would tell us he has a big heart and that hes going to live a very long time. My sister picked up medication for the next month on the morning of the day he got euthanized. He had a scheduled appointment with the cardiologist on Nov 17 at 4pm that he never got to go to.
This dog taught me how to love, how to care for someone else other than myself, how to enjoy the simple things in life and understand that there are forces we cannot change, things that happen for certain reasons. But, it still bloody sucks. Like, actually, really, really, really sucks. I don’t think I’ve gone 3 hours without crying except for when I’m sleeping.
I want to grieve for like 2 weeks. But life doesn’t stop. This is right in the middle of school and work and life. But I just want time to stop for a good while so I can have a nice cry.
I know he is watching over us, protecting us like he always has everywhere we went. We just can’t see him. He’s barking loudly, happily, telling us that things are going to be okay, and to stop crying because he doesn’t want to see us cry over him. He had an overall nice life, but it was cut short. I just want to hold him one more time in my arms while he’s sleeping, and stroke his fur right in between his eyes because he can never itch there on his own. It all happened too fast, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.
I don’t know if we’ll ever get another dog as a family, I highly doubt it. For my mom, it’s just too much of a reminder. Maybe when I move out and am stable I can love another dog again. For now, it’s just an open wound. Mocha was loved by so many people, and he only loved a few. That says a lot about what even knowing about this dog did for a lot of friends and family even if he didn’t like them.
I lost my baby and I lost my baby brother and it hurts so much. He didn’t get to see so many people he loved from the beginning because it was so sudden and a split second decision. He is not suffering anymore but the emptiness in my heart is going to take a very long time to be filled again; maybe never, that hole in my heart is reserved for him. Rest in peace baby, we all miss you but if you’re getting happiness, fresh air, peanut butter, head scratches and belly rubs and apples and chicken and bread and friends up there somewhere, you don’t need to come back down. <3
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