It was a heart breaking night for me, as I spent the early morning hours lying on the couch with the old pug and the new dog. Gordie was having trouble breathing; every inhale and exhale was a struggle for him. Fortunately, he seemed a slight bit better after we decamped the bedroom for the couch.
I was trying to let my poor husband get a few winks, as he works nine hours on Wednesdays, so I put myself in charge of the canine brigade. Finn must have sensed that Gordie was in trouble because he curled up behind my knees and gave the old pug a wide berth. There is no respite when a pug has a respiratory episode but the cool leather seems to soothe and distract him.
I spent five years on pug duty when Ming was around. She had horrible allergies and even with medication, she shook, she shimmied, and she paced until she passed out from sheer exhaustion. Her damaged respiratory system was ultimately her undoing and she left us in April. She must have been grateful for her everlasting peace. I was shattered -- still am -- but I have accepted it was her time.
And I realize it's only a matter of time before Gordie takes the short walk down the Green Mile. It's the price we pay for the love we get.
Gordie has never had breathing problems, but he suffered a major panic attack yesterday when he spotted his nemesis, Skylar, the baby. It took me two hours to calm him and I think that's what was ailing him last night. His anxiety wreaked havoc on his windpipe and perhaps it was swollen.
I dropped Scott off this morning in case a vet visit was needed. Fortunately, he seems tired but better.
He's sleeping now, thankfully, after getting a dose of Benadryl, which is the savior of pugs.
I'm hoping this is a one-off and he's not developing the same issues as Ming. It would be a lot to take if we lost Gordie, having already said goodbye to Ming and our beloved Hannah in the last six months.
So much death. So much sadness.
Loss of love is a terrible thing.
Let's hope the Grim Reaper gives us a break.