I had another talk with Mom about putting her down. Like always, Mom got angry with me about it. Telling me that "if it was Joy, she'd respect my decision if I wanted to let her live like that." Yeah, right. It's easy enough for her to say that, but if it really happened, you could bet your ass she'd be telling me it wasn't fair to Joy either. And I would probably listen, because I'm stupid like that I guess. I don't know who made her the fucking goddess to decide which pets live or die around here, but I sure as hell "wasn't ready" to let Spice go. He was more my cat than he was hers, and she didn't care whatsoever about my opinion then.
She's so selfish. She's always selfish. She acts like she's high and mighty and knows better than anyone else, and she just doesn't care about other people's opinions. She knows best. She always knows best. Fuck her.
I can see that Mrs. Dash is not in any way the same dog she used to be. She doesn't come when she's called. She doesn't move unless she has to. She can't see, and she can barely hear. She stands in the same place for hours just so she doesn't have to move her legs. She can't even support her own weight as she stands; her legs slide out from underneath her until she's literally doing the splits. Her ears are constantly pulled back in an unpleasant expression and her eyes are sad. If she wants to get up from bed and move somewhere else, she has to try multiple times to get up - sometimes she gives up and decides to stay in place. You can see it in her eyes when she desperately wants to go somewhere, but can't get her body to cooperate. She no longer jumps up or down anywhere - only falls. She trips over her own feet. Sometimes when you put her down, she falls over because her feet can't catch her. She can't move herself enough to get back on her feet. Her fur is grey and thinning. She has disgusting pink growths on her elbows and face. She has lumps where they shouldn't be. She can't make it outside to go to the bathroom. If she can't get someone to carry her outside in time, she just pees and poops on the floor. And you can tell she holds it as long as possible so that she doesn't have to make frequent trips outside. When she eats her food, she drools everywhere uncontrollably. She no longer knows how to eat properly at all. Anything larger than a couple nuggets of dog food makes her choke and cough the food back up to eat it again. She's losing weight for inexplicable reasons. No medicine we've tried has improved her movement.
And Mom's excuse is that "she's happy when she's sleeping and eating." Yeah, because the only time she doesn't have to deal with her life is when she's passed out. And she's always been completely mindless when it comes to food. It's not healthy to use that as an excuse to say that she's perfectly fine. She's not like a normal dog when she eats. I don't think there ever will be a day when Mrs. Dash refuses food, and we can't keep dragging on her miserable life like this. It's not fair.
Mom once told me that "Mrs. Dash is fine. She can still make it out the back door to go potty. The day she can't do that, I know it will be a problem."
Yeah, right.
"Mrs. Dash is fine. The vet told me so three months ago. She's still happy when she eats. The day she doesn't want to eat, I know it will be a problem."
Sound familiar?
I wish I didn't have to remember Mrs. Dash this way. I wish I could know her as a happy, loving dog. Granted, she was never very loving to me, but I used to be able to appreciate her in some ways. This is not the dog we once had. It's a skeleton. A horrid, twisted version of that dog, being kept alive for no reason other than because Mom can't take the fact that her life is at an end.
Yes, I will be upset to see Joy get old. I know for a fact that it will hit me hard. But I cannot imagine ever putting Joy through this.
Because it's not just her legs. It's not like her movement is the only thing she has trouble with, and that she's very lively otherwise. She's old. She's lived her life. Let her go.