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Mar. 3rd, 2011 10:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eaemiliaWe had to put Storm down today.
When we got him back from the vet's on Tuesday it seemed like everything would be okay. They said that as long as we got food into him and kept giving him the steroids, that he would get better. But he didn't want to. He just gave up.
I knew we'd have to put him down eventually, but it seemed like we would have time. I keep wondering if maybe we could have done something more. Not have had him the surgery. Gone to the vet sooner. Feed him more. Paid more attention to him. Something. Storm was supposed to be a stubborn bastard. He wasn't supposed to give up.
When I heard Mom go to Jake's door this morning and say his name, I knew that if she came to mine, he was gone. And she did.
Storm's been with me since I was four. That's thirteen years. He's fallen out of windows, been pulled out of windows by fishers, and had his back legs out of joint for years. Three years ago he go a benign tumor in his mouth that apparently spread. Benign tumors shouldn't have killed him, but they messed with his blood, and he stopped fighting. It feels so weird without him; for the majority of my life he's been here and now he's just gone. I'm glad at least he was able to spent his last day at home, and in the spring we are going to bury his ashes out back, that's better than what Jack got.
Callie's been with me for most of the day; I guess she's been mourning her brother in her own way.
Goodbye Stormy.
R.I.P.
Storm
August 1997-3 March 2011
When we got him back from the vet's on Tuesday it seemed like everything would be okay. They said that as long as we got food into him and kept giving him the steroids, that he would get better. But he didn't want to. He just gave up.
I knew we'd have to put him down eventually, but it seemed like we would have time. I keep wondering if maybe we could have done something more. Not have had him the surgery. Gone to the vet sooner. Feed him more. Paid more attention to him. Something. Storm was supposed to be a stubborn bastard. He wasn't supposed to give up.
When I heard Mom go to Jake's door this morning and say his name, I knew that if she came to mine, he was gone. And she did.
Storm's been with me since I was four. That's thirteen years. He's fallen out of windows, been pulled out of windows by fishers, and had his back legs out of joint for years. Three years ago he go a benign tumor in his mouth that apparently spread. Benign tumors shouldn't have killed him, but they messed with his blood, and he stopped fighting. It feels so weird without him; for the majority of my life he's been here and now he's just gone. I'm glad at least he was able to spent his last day at home, and in the spring we are going to bury his ashes out back, that's better than what Jack got.
Callie's been with me for most of the day; I guess she's been mourning her brother in her own way.
Goodbye Stormy.
R.I.P.
Storm
August 1997-3 March 2011
