It's taken me awhile to write this post, but it's long overdue. I'm sure most of you who read this blog (not sure who lurks) know this already. Tomorrow will be exactly 4 weeks since my doggy Gigi died.
The story of Gigi: Back in August 2006, my mom brought me a cute fur baby the day of the first football game. A neighbor out at the lake had this pen set up, and my stepdad drove by and stopped. He saw a little ball of fur in the corner of a pen, and then all a sudden a little head popped up. Bob asked the guy if he wanted the dog, and if not that he knew I wanted a dog. The neighbor told Bob no, he couldn't take the dog. A few days later he called Bob and said "still want the dog?" And behold, Gigi became my baby. I was always asked what kind of dog she was, and I honestly never had a clue. Most people speculated that she was some sort of Maltese mix. She was a small dog (on her last day, she weighed 4.7 lbs) and very hairy. She was like a mop...bath time was always funny.
Gigi's last days: The weekend of August 7th, Julia came into town to visit. On Saturday, we played with Gigi, took pictures of her...everything seemed normal. On Sunday morning, Gigi was perfectly normal. Sunday afternoon she was fine. When we got back from lunch, I noticed she was acting a bit different. She wouldn't go to the bathroom when I took her outside. She sometimes did this when visitors were over; she wouldn't go unless everyone was outside with her...it's like she thought she was missing out on something inside if people stayed in the apartment. I kept trying to get her to go, but she wouldn't. She spent the rest of the day in my room in her kennel - she wasn't locked up, but she would crawl in there and sleep on her bed. This was definitely not normal, as Gigi normally slept on the couch next to me or in my closet on a pile of dirty clothes that I would leave out for her. She just looked so sad. When she did come out to the living room, she was walking funny - almost like she was constipated. I tried to give her some milk to speed up the bowel movement process, but that didn't work. She crawled back into her bed, and that was making me too sad and I knew something was wrong.
When I tried to pick her up, she started growling at me and tried to bite me...another sign that something was terribly wrong. I left her in her bed and picked it up, put in on the chair with me, and proceeded to give her belly rubs (still thinking she was constipated). She started moving around, so I thought maybe she finally had to use the bathroom. Julia and I took her outside (this was now 11ish), and she started acting weird. She was drooling a lot and panting, so I ran inside to get the number of the emergency clinic. I then heard Julia yell my name that we needed to go quick, as Gigi started to seizure. We grabbed Gigi's bed, jumped in my car, and I raced to the emergency clinic down the road. Thank goodness Julia was there with me. Her nurse skills came in handy as she quickly spouted off all the symptoms and signs from the last few hours. She was there to hug me when I could hear Gigi crying in the back as they put the IV in her. They wanted to keep her overnight attached to the IV, so Julia and I went in to say goodnight. Broke my heart to leave her there.
The story of Gigi: Back in August 2006, my mom brought me a cute fur baby the day of the first football game. A neighbor out at the lake had this pen set up, and my stepdad drove by and stopped. He saw a little ball of fur in the corner of a pen, and then all a sudden a little head popped up. Bob asked the guy if he wanted the dog, and if not that he knew I wanted a dog. The neighbor told Bob no, he couldn't take the dog. A few days later he called Bob and said "still want the dog?" And behold, Gigi became my baby. I was always asked what kind of dog she was, and I honestly never had a clue. Most people speculated that she was some sort of Maltese mix. She was a small dog (on her last day, she weighed 4.7 lbs) and very hairy. She was like a mop...bath time was always funny.
Gigi's last days: The weekend of August 7th, Julia came into town to visit. On Saturday, we played with Gigi, took pictures of her...everything seemed normal. On Sunday morning, Gigi was perfectly normal. Sunday afternoon she was fine. When we got back from lunch, I noticed she was acting a bit different. She wouldn't go to the bathroom when I took her outside. She sometimes did this when visitors were over; she wouldn't go unless everyone was outside with her...it's like she thought she was missing out on something inside if people stayed in the apartment. I kept trying to get her to go, but she wouldn't. She spent the rest of the day in my room in her kennel - she wasn't locked up, but she would crawl in there and sleep on her bed. This was definitely not normal, as Gigi normally slept on the couch next to me or in my closet on a pile of dirty clothes that I would leave out for her. She just looked so sad. When she did come out to the living room, she was walking funny - almost like she was constipated. I tried to give her some milk to speed up the bowel movement process, but that didn't work. She crawled back into her bed, and that was making me too sad and I knew something was wrong.
When I tried to pick her up, she started growling at me and tried to bite me...another sign that something was terribly wrong. I left her in her bed and picked it up, put in on the chair with me, and proceeded to give her belly rubs (still thinking she was constipated). She started moving around, so I thought maybe she finally had to use the bathroom. Julia and I took her outside (this was now 11ish), and she started acting weird. She was drooling a lot and panting, so I ran inside to get the number of the emergency clinic. I then heard Julia yell my name that we needed to go quick, as Gigi started to seizure. We grabbed Gigi's bed, jumped in my car, and I raced to the emergency clinic down the road. Thank goodness Julia was there with me. Her nurse skills came in handy as she quickly spouted off all the symptoms and signs from the last few hours. She was there to hug me when I could hear Gigi crying in the back as they put the IV in her. They wanted to keep her overnight attached to the IV, so Julia and I went in to say goodnight. Broke my heart to leave her there.
The next morning I picked Gigi up at 6:30 a.m. and saw on the forms that they had to give her more medicine, as she had two more seizures while there, with the most recent being a minute before I arrived. The vet told me I needed to take her to the vet for a possible MRI. I brought Gigi back home and held her for about 30 minutes when I realized she wasn't getting any better. I called the vet and rushed her over. They did some tests and decided that Gigi needed to see a specialist for an MRI and possible spinal tap. Austin doesn't have a vet who does MRIs, and they didn't think I could get to College Station in time. They were able to schedule me to see the specialist down south, so I rushed my baby over there. When I walked into the building, I could tell by the looks on the staff's faces that Gigi was in trouble. They ran over to me and grabbed Gigi out of my arms. I had no idea that would be the last time I would hold her. The vet told me they would administer her spinal tap at noon, but she was worried because Gigi was really small and the amount of room to work with would be marginal. She also looked at the test results from the past few hours and said she was worried about the level of protein in Gigi. I wasn't sure what all this meant, but they told me I should go home for awhile. I went home, and Denise picked me up to take me to lunch. I got a call from the vet that they did the spinal tap and that the fluid showed something. She said that she was going to look at it under the microscope, but that she was pretty sure it was brain cancer. If it was neurological, she told me that it wouldn't be good and that I would only have a matter of time with Gigi. I said that I was on my way over and hung up. About 5 minutes later I got another call from the vet with the news that my baby had stopped breathing.
Denise quickly sprung into action, and we drove down to the vet. When we walked in, the vet came and took us to the back where Gigi was. Seeing my baby lying on the table while the assistant kept pumping her was devastating. I stood there petting Gigi as I gave them the okay to stop pumping and put her to sleep. THE.WORST.MOMENT.EVER. I know it was awkward for everyone in the room as I stood there crying my eyes out.
I cried the entire day. My mom drove up later that night, and we cried the second we saw each other. The next day (Tuesday), my mom drove me down to the vet to pick Gigi up. We wanted to bury her back home in Corpus. We bury all of our pets, as morbid as that sounds. We were waiting around the back of the building when the tech brought out a box...and we lost it. When we got back to my apartment, I sat on the living room floor holding the box that my baby was in and just cried. When my mom came out, it took me forever to pass the box to her. And then she was gone. In a matter of 2 and a half days, my baby was gone forever.
For those who have never owned a pet - and especially those who have never lived alone with a pet - they just don't get it. Gigi had just turned 3 years old, with all of those years being with me. She was more than my dog - she was my baby and my best friend. The feeling that I would get when I came home from work and Gigi would be there with a smile on her face and would run up and down my stomach/chest is a feeling that I miss so much. When I was sad and crying, Gigi would jump up and sit on my shoulder and lick my tears away. She would wake me up every morning with what I called "Gigi kisses." She would snuggle up next to me at night and then move over to her side of the bed when I finally turned off the light. We ate dinner together every night. I told her about my day, about what made me happy/sad/mad; I asked her how her day was - again, if you have never had a pet, then this probably sounds crazy.
And now everything is different. My alarm still goes off at "Gigi time" - time allotted to feed, water, walk and play with her before I left for the day. I no longer need to get up that early, but I still keep the alarm set and just lie in bed for that 45 minutes. It took me about 2 weeks before I finally ate dinner at home. Coming home has been the worst part of the day for the past 4 weeks. Who would have thought that coming home from work would be the worst part of the day. It's so empty and sad in here without her. Her stuff is still out. I sleep with her favorite toy at night. I just can't bring myself to part with anything.
I do want to thank Julia for being with me that Sunday when everything happened. Like I said before, she saved me at the emergency clinic. I was an emotional mess, and she was able to give the vets the information they needed. And thanks to Denise for being with me at the vet's when I had to say bye to Gigi. I don't think I could have gone alone. And thanks to my brother Arnold and sister-in-law Paige for sending me flowers. And thanks to my co-workers Derrick, Courtney and Eleanor for getting me flowers and peanut butter m&ms...and to all my co-workers for signing a card. And thanks to all my friends who left facebook comments, emailed and/or sent texts. And thanks to my vet who sent me a nice card that everyone signed. And last week I got a letter in the mail from American College of Veterinary Internal Medicine (ACVIM) that the vets at the specialist's office made a donation in memory of Gigi...so thanks to them for that.
For everyone who met Gigi, they all loved her - she was hard not to love, as she was always smiling and giving "Gigi kisses." I will miss her dearly. A part of me died when she did.
Denise quickly sprung into action, and we drove down to the vet. When we walked in, the vet came and took us to the back where Gigi was. Seeing my baby lying on the table while the assistant kept pumping her was devastating. I stood there petting Gigi as I gave them the okay to stop pumping and put her to sleep. THE.WORST.MOMENT.EVER. I know it was awkward for everyone in the room as I stood there crying my eyes out.
I cried the entire day. My mom drove up later that night, and we cried the second we saw each other. The next day (Tuesday), my mom drove me down to the vet to pick Gigi up. We wanted to bury her back home in Corpus. We bury all of our pets, as morbid as that sounds. We were waiting around the back of the building when the tech brought out a box...and we lost it. When we got back to my apartment, I sat on the living room floor holding the box that my baby was in and just cried. When my mom came out, it took me forever to pass the box to her. And then she was gone. In a matter of 2 and a half days, my baby was gone forever.
For those who have never owned a pet - and especially those who have never lived alone with a pet - they just don't get it. Gigi had just turned 3 years old, with all of those years being with me. She was more than my dog - she was my baby and my best friend. The feeling that I would get when I came home from work and Gigi would be there with a smile on her face and would run up and down my stomach/chest is a feeling that I miss so much. When I was sad and crying, Gigi would jump up and sit on my shoulder and lick my tears away. She would wake me up every morning with what I called "Gigi kisses." She would snuggle up next to me at night and then move over to her side of the bed when I finally turned off the light. We ate dinner together every night. I told her about my day, about what made me happy/sad/mad; I asked her how her day was - again, if you have never had a pet, then this probably sounds crazy.
And now everything is different. My alarm still goes off at "Gigi time" - time allotted to feed, water, walk and play with her before I left for the day. I no longer need to get up that early, but I still keep the alarm set and just lie in bed for that 45 minutes. It took me about 2 weeks before I finally ate dinner at home. Coming home has been the worst part of the day for the past 4 weeks. Who would have thought that coming home from work would be the worst part of the day. It's so empty and sad in here without her. Her stuff is still out. I sleep with her favorite toy at night. I just can't bring myself to part with anything.
I do want to thank Julia for being with me that Sunday when everything happened. Like I said before, she saved me at the emergency clinic. I was an emotional mess, and she was able to give the vets the information they needed. And thanks to Denise for being with me at the vet's when I had to say bye to Gigi. I don't think I could have gone alone. And thanks to my brother Arnold and sister-in-law Paige for sending me flowers. And thanks to my co-workers Derrick, Courtney and Eleanor for getting me flowers and peanut butter m&ms...and to all my co-workers for signing a card. And thanks to all my friends who left facebook comments, emailed and/or sent texts. And thanks to my vet who sent me a nice card that everyone signed. And last week I got a letter in the mail from American College of Veterinary Internal Medicine (ACVIM) that the vets at the specialist's office made a donation in memory of Gigi...so thanks to them for that.
For everyone who met Gigi, they all loved her - she was hard not to love, as she was always smiling and giving "Gigi kisses." I will miss her dearly. A part of me died when she did.
Her life in pics:
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| the first day we met in August 2006 |
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| two of her favorite things - rope toy and Tweety pillow |
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| my favorite picture of her when she was younger |
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| she was getting a little hairy... |
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| she looked a lot happier after a visit to the groomer - but my baby looked naked! |
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| Gigi's idea of helping me pack |
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| playing on her last full day of health |
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| our last night together...last tummy rub...last picture...had no idea she was dying in my arms |
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