Nov. 27th, 2012 07:36 pm
leticia: (Default)

That's Remus in October, a little before Halloween. He'd been to Petco to get his nails clipped, and they were decorating the dogs as a seasonal thing.

At this point, Remus was on a heavy dose of a diuretic to keep his symptoms under control. In June, we started noticing his stomach swelling, a symptom most likely of a failing heart that could no longer pump blood hard enough to keep his blood vessels inflated. The diuretics helped; he outlived his prognosis by several months.

A couple weeks ago, the diuretics were no longer enough. We had them tap his belly one more time and upped his dosage, but it took him two weeks to recover from the procedure, and by then his stomach was already bloated. Today, we took him in to the vet for the last time.

He was a good dog. He had some food issue; he was scared of his own shadow. But he loved us absolutely and was almost brave in protecting his cats.

Someday soon, I will upload a video of him being chased around the floor by the eight week old Pippin, which occurred in July, shortly after his diagnosis. One last kitten for Remus to love.

The last few nights, we've been trapping Remus in our bedroom at night because as his misery increased, his behavior decreased, and he's been chewing and destroying when alone. Pippin -hated- having his big brother locked away from him and attacked our door and cried.

He will be a sad kitty tonight. So are we all. Even the ones that aren't kitties.
leticia: (Default)

That's mostly from our weekend trip, with a few pictures of the cats because they were on my camera and cats are too cute not to share.

Edited to insert one picture:
leticia: (Default)
So the surprise extra Crawlspace Kittens have been coralled. Below, the pics. (BTW, they need homes - I don't think it's likely but if anyone in the general vicinity of me wants a kitten...)

No, they're not easy to tell apart. By coincidence, the one we're keeping is very distinct - almost all black with a light feathering of white hair scattered about evenly.

Kittens inside )
leticia: (Default)
So here's pictures of the Crawlspace Kitten:

About half of them are pictures where I was trying to capture the pure adorableness that is the way Remus was playing with him last night. The little kitten was chasing the 100 pound dog all over the house. I'm afraid a lot of the pictures don't do justice; I'll have to catch a video.

(And because I didn't clean this up at all, there are several pictures of "Dog back" or "Cat butt" and nothing more.)
leticia: (Default)
My alarm is set for around 8:30 at the moment. It is more like 6:30. About twenty minutes ago, soundly asleep and content, I hear dire wails from outside. In a tone of despair and heartbreak, my mother is shouting, "Remus, no!" "Remus, no!" Over, and over. Whatever Remus is doing, he is apparently also avoiding her. Remus is a dog.

Remus' great sin )
leticia: (angry)
I don't even know how to say this. I'm typing blind. My puppy... six months old, ALMOST, Rags... got hit by the neighbors car and killed.

It's not like we live on a road. We're off on a little dirt track. They shouldn't have been moving fast enough to kill him. Stupid arrogant bastards who sat there afterwards and said "sorry" in a smarmy little tone that meant "At least we won't have to pay vet bills. And you better hope that fucking dog of yours didn't damage our car."

And he died. He DIED.

I'm ok when our older pets die. They're old, they get sick, they die. It's part of life, it's natural, it's supposed to happen, and I love them and I'm sad and I miss them. But Rags was just a PUPPY. Not even six months old. Puppies aren't supposed to die. They're not supposed to get killed like that.

We don't even live near the road, so that our babies won't get killed and those bastards had to kill him anyhow. I hate them. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM.

Do they have a mood for this? I'm so torn up inside. I loved this puppy. He was adorable. He was cute. He was sweet and loving. He got under your feet and in your way and into trouble every way he could, but he was always so happy to see you because he loved you so much. He always came when you called because he loved you so much.

...He won't come. I'll call and call and call and he'll never come again. He'll just lie there and get cold. And Dad's digging a hole behind the house. Pet cemetary, you know. We've buried at least a dozen pets in my lifetime. I love them all and I still expect them to get old and die. If my beloved Shadow or Autumn Dawn died tomorrow, I'd cry. But Rags had so much... LIFE. So much activity. So much sheer unbounded cuteness. And he died so... wantonly.

It wasn't even like a predator got him, natural cycle. It's just so wanton, arbitrary, awful.

Ok, I should be fair. They love pets too. They didn't mean to hurt him. They were just being stupid and careless and they probably feel awful about it. They'd probably agree with my anger. I should be fair - they didn't mean to, they're not evil, just STUPID. But it hurts.

We've buried him now. It makes me so mad/sad/unhappy.


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