Amelia, the golden retriever, is dead. As we expected, the cancer on her spleen was not the final culprit. What did for her in the end was the mass of tumors in her lungs. Her spleen caused the recent ups and downs, when internal bleeding would start and then stop. In between episodes she was a happy golden, gobbling her food and putting her feet up on the counter, looking for more.
Two days ago she went down again, and this time her gums were red and refilled fast — probably not internal bleeding. She started having mild trouble breathing. She rallied, then declined. Stopped eating (always a bad sign in goldens).
Last night was a bad night — her breathing was labored, with lots of lung sounds — and we were somewhat surprised to see her still alive in the morning. But her head was up and her ears were up and her whole attitude said she was fighting, that this wasn’t her day to go. Unfortunately, that didn’t last.
I went to school, to teach my morning class. While I was gone, she declined some more, and MJ decided we would have to take her to the vet to have her put to sleep. I skipped out on office hours, and came home early. Just as I opened the door, MJ said, Amelia coughed up some blood, and died. We are now waiting for the pet cremation people to come pick her up.
Amelia was nine years old, and a failure at being anything but a great dog. She developed some food allergies that caused continuing hot spots, and killed her confirmation career. She wasn’t enthusiastic enough for agility. She wasn’t even a good lapdog. But she was a great companion, and was happy. She will be missed.