
While the drama of the presidential election was occurring, an even bigger drama was taking place that Tuesday at my vet’s with Ruby. Ruby has developed something of an intermittent dry cough, a chuffing kind of cough. The vet examined her and came by with sobering news. First, he had a hard time listening to her heartbeat; it was muffled as if there was fluid in the thoracic region of the heart. He took an X-ray and saw the area was indeed filled with something. One of our thoughts turned to cancer. My wife was with us at the time and the three of us discussed what it might be and possible treatment plans. In the end they gave Ruby a shot of steroids and some pills I’m supposed to start giving her this coming Sunday. Ruby has improved and sleeps a lot easier.
Ruby is now 16 years and three months. Labrador retrievers are supposed to live an average of ten and twelve years. Ruby has beat those statistics by a good amount. She’s been remarkably healthy the entire time. Even now she goes on her walks (slowly) and waits for her treats, and comes over for rubs and scratches. She likes to sit next to me and look up while I’m working on something around the house.
Ruby’s having greater and greater difficulty standing. I can help her up so she can go outside and go to the bathroom. Once outside on the concrete or the yard proper she has no difficulty going down to rest or getting back up. But in the house on the tile floors she no longer has the strength in her hips and back legs to simply stand. As a consequence I’ve ordered a set of dog boots for each paw to give her added foot traction, for as long as she needs them.
I know that Ruby will leave soon. I am prepared. I’ve lived through Lab end states since 1994, when our first Lab, Rhett, left us. After Rhett I bid farewell to Katie, Babe, and Max. Very soon I’ll bid farewell to lovely Ruby.
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