I am pretty sure it’s the end of the line for Koolit.
Kurt talked to the vet again today. His kidneys are not functioning like they should; his pee is basically nothing more than salt water. It should contain a lot more stuff, the things that the kidneys filter out of the bloodstream. But his kidneys just aren’t functioning. His liver enzymes are elevated as well, and the vet thinks he may have Cushing’s disease (a tumor on the pituitary gland that causes an excess of cortisol) on top of that. As if that weren’t enough, he’s mostly deaf and mostly blind. He gets stuck in weird places in the house, like between my bed and my nightstand, and yelps in confusion and fear until I retrieve him because he does not realize he can simply go backwards. He cannot keep his balance on the linoleum, and he’s lost three pounds — which is a lot in a small dog. The vet does not seem optimistic that verifying and medicating him for the Cushing’s disease is going to do much for him. There is simply too much wrong with him that cannot be fixed. He’s an old, old dog, and it’s time to say goodbye.
Which isn’t making it any easier. Kurt asked me when I want to have him take Koolit in, and I just can’t answer that right now. We could have done it today, but I wasn’t ready. I know it will have to be this week; it would be cruel to keep him alive much longer at this point.
And he can go up to doggy heaven and run and play like a puppy again. Hopefully there will be someone up there that will love him like I have, and will take care of him till I get there too.
So Miss Gracie Poo is turning into quite the young lady. She’s got her own opinions and likes and dislikes, and it’s so funny to watch her develop.
Lately it’s been matching me. I have to admit I sort of planted the idea of being matchy-matchy by buying the girls a couple of matching outfits. Oh, stop. You know you’d buy matching outfits if you had two little girls! My biological mother dressed my sister and me in matching outfits on occasion, and we turned out just fine.
Anyhow! When Grace can’t match Mary Ellen, she wants to match me. This morning when I asked her to go get dressed, she wanted to know what color shirt I was going to wear. I woke up super late this morning, and only startled awake when I heard the warning to colors sound at 7:55am. Oops. I’m supposed to leave the house at 8:20am to take Grace to school! I still managed to get showered, dressed, and made up with hair styled, plus making Grace some breakfast and getting ME ready to go, all by 8:25. Not bad! I was so frazzled that I couldn’t even begin to decide which shirt I was going to wear, so I told Grace to wait for me to get dressed first. When I chose my brown empire-waist shirt, she elected to wear her brown polo shirt. Later I changed my shirt because I was cold (it’s still only in the 60s here), and she was a bit perturbed that we didn’t match anymore. It all worked out when Kurt asked her to get a clean shirt before going to Wal-Mart, so she chose a green one to match me once more.
Yes, we actually wear clean clothes to Wal-Mart! We sort of stick out in our nice, unstained clothes amid the torn, ripped, stained t-shirts and sweatpants that were probably last washed several wearings ago.
She’s getting so independent in other ways too. Today she was rattling around in the kitchen, and while I knew she was getting herself some water, I wasn’t really paying any mind. She retrieved her own cup, grabbed some ice out of the freezer, and hauled her stool to the sink to fill her cup. Next thing I know she’s in the fridge. That’s when I remembered she likes to put a little lime juice in her water, the better to be like Mommy.
Problem is, she didn’t dribble a few drops of lime juice into her water like I do.
That, my friends, is a glass of lime juice cut with just a tiny bit of water. I have to hand it to her, though. She drank it all and asked for more! This time I helped her and showed her how little lime juice she really needs, but she complained that she couldn’t taste the lime.
I’m not terribly surprised. This is the girl who eats lemons when I ask for them in a restaurant. She’s not quite as bad as her father; Kurt will eat a whole lemon wedge, peel and all. Grace will just eat the flesh off the peel. But it’s something she’s enjoyed since she was a toddler. Go figure.