Not Leaving Yet

My dog, Goliath, my buddy, my first boy, nearly died last night.  He is a German Shepherd and he experienced Bloat.

Bloat is a serious condition that affects large breeds when too much air is taken into their bellies, usually by eating too fast or exercising before or after a meal.  The stomach expands and after a while, twists around, like a wet rag. There is a small window of time to relieve the pressure, otherwise, it is quickly fatal.

As I’ve written here before, I’m very aware of the passage of time with every glance at my old dog.  He’s 13 now. As recently as March, he weighed his usual 100lbs, but on Monday, he was down to 76lbs.

He’s shrinking right before my eyes.  My once, strong, handsome boy is old.  He struggles to stand.  He can barely walk up the driveway.  The dog who used to pull me down the road as if he were walking me, now lags behind, gingerly trying to keep up.

We question the dramatic weight loss.  Is pain from arthritis hampering his appetite or is there a bigger issue we’re not seeing simply because we don’t want to know.  Are we refusing to face the inevitable?  Afraid to prepare ourselves for the awfulness of saying goodbye.

I’m convinced whether or not we want answers, we need them, to do right by Goliath.  He deserves that.  I think of his quality of life and believe it’s there.

He loves being outside, laying in the grass snapping at flies or bees or whatever comes his way.  He still races by with a biscuit in his mouth, eager to devour his prize, for fear someone might get a piece of this deliciousness.  He inhales the affection shown through belly rubs and ear scratches and shows his appreciation by dropping his heavy paw in the lap of the lucky giver.

And if that’s all he gets these days, then I need to believe it’s enough. Quiet times leading to a peaceful, unavoidable end.

But not last night.  An hour after his dinner he started to writhe in agony, gasping for air and foaming at the mouth.  It was after hours and the nearest emergency animal hospital was 25 minutes away.  Leaving our boys with my mother-in-law, who was thankfully here, my husband and I took him.  Driving faster than speed limits allow.

I sat in the back with him, holding his head, listening for each raspy breath, while his skinny body trembled.  All I could think was, “Don’t die, Goliath.  Not in the back of a car, in this horrible, torturous way.”  After all our years together, this can’t be how it ends, but any other conclusion seemed impossible.

My husband spoke of doing things differently when Goliath gets past this.  I don’t know where he gets his faith or maybe it was denial.  A deep refusal to believe his beloved best friend was leaving us.  Maybe he was being naive. I was glad he wouldn’t face the worst case scenario alone.  I was the one used to the sad ending, not him.  I would be there to hold his hand as he so often held mine.

The minutes and highway exits slowly passed and by some miracle, Goliath was still alive when we arrived.  The vet managed to relieve the air pressure before the stomach twisted completely.

I was in awe of my husband’s composure.  He never believed life with our dog was over.  To him, it just wasn’t an option.

I was proud of Goliath.  He summoned his strength when he needed it most.  Maybe he knew he was loved. Maybe, it just wasn’t his time.  Maybe, things don’t always need to be so tragic.

Amazingly, my dog is home now.  Laying calmly at my feet, as he should, with only a paw print bandage to show for the night’s excitement.

6 thoughts on “Not Leaving Yet

  1. Oh, I'm so glad he's all right. Bloat is really frightening. Whenever it is Goliath's time, you'll have a lot of your blog sisters & brothers crying with you, my friend. I had to let my sweet guy go almost a year ago (old age…) & I still miss him. XXXXXXXX to Goliath!


  2. Oh gosh, how traumatic! I am so glad Goliath is fine now. Isn't it interesting how we complement and mirror our partners/close ones in times of crisis. I find that sometimes I am the calm one when hubby is stressing and other times it is the opposite way round. Never both at once! Big hugs to you all x


  3. Stacey, This post made me cry. I can actually feel your emotion, your love for your first boy when I read your words. I'm so glad Goliath is home again and doing better. I'm glad it wasn't his time yet. I guess he has a little more love to share and I know you do too. Hugs for you and pats for Goliath.


  4. Hi Kathi, thank you for the sweet words and I'm sorry for your loss. Never let anyone say, it was \”only\” a dog. They just don't get it.FBG! Yes, it's amazing really. I think we instinctively pick up when one of us isn't able to move forward. That's the beauty of some relationships and I'm very fortunate to have it. Thanks for reading and writing.Hi Nancy, you dog lover. You get it. I understand he's not getting any younger, I can only hope when his time comes, it's peaceful. That's why the other night was so unbearable, it was far from peaceful. But, we don't always get to choose, do we? Thanks for your lovely comment.


  5. Stacey…..please pass me the Kleenex now!!!! I'm so glad Goliath is still at your feet. That's where my little dog prefers to be as well. Their presence is so comforting. Such a moving post. Sending ear scratches stat. xxx


  6. I'm so glad Goliath is OK. What a sweet, beautiful, loving dog. I'm glad you got to the vet in time. My lab mix has a big, deep chest and a tiny waist. Bloat is always at the back of my mind with him. He likes to race around like crazy and I know it's better to keep him calmer after meals.German shepherds are wonderful dogs.


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