Holding onto a Doggie Hope

Have you ever had the experience where you're just walking through life, minding your own business, and then suddenly you run into Death and you're looking at him, face to face? And somehow, in some way, you narrowly get around him, holding your breath, praying that he will let you pass without harm. And you make it; you're able to continue on life's journey, but you're changed in the process. Suddenly those small moments that you hardly noticed become so important. You realize how much you've taken for granted in your life. And you come to realize that every day, every minute we balance on a steep mountainside of it-could-always-get-worse or it-could-always-get-better, and you see how unsure your footing really is.
I don't even know how to begin tonight or what to entitle this entry. A completely average day went completely downhill at around 5:00 p.m. I went to work as usual, same old, same old. I came home around 5 to pick up my dog and go get Hubbie from the airport. It's Gimli's favorite ride-going to get dad from the airport. Well, when I went to let him out of his room (yes, my dog has his own room), his door was already wide open and he was nowhere to be found. I looked in my bedroom, found some doggie throw up but no dog. I called for him, no response. We have a baby gate up at the top of the staircase to keep Gimli out of the basement unsupervised, and it was still closed. I decided to check the basement just in case and just as I was about to the bottom of the stairs, here comes Gimli. I was so relieved to find him, but he was not looking good. I took him outside to use the bathroom and he was shaking as he walked. His eyes were so droopy and he just looked so miserable. When I had to help my 120 lb. dog into my car, I knew something was really wrong. And then he started breathing really shallow, like he was in pain. I didn't know what to do. I was supposed to pick up my husband at the airport in 10 minutes, and with the current traffic, it would take me 25 minutes. Gimli needed to get to a vet...I almost didn't go get my husband, but decided to go get him and then the two of us took Gimli to the vet. After some X-rays, we discovered that our dog had stones in his bladder so bad that everything was plugged up and his bladder was the size of a kickball and the vet couldn't get a catheter in to drain the bladder.
A few hours later, we were saying good-bye to our dog, leaving him with the vet, not knowing if we would get to see him again. The options were an extensive surgery if his bloodwork was good, or, if the tests showed that his kidneys had shut down, we would have to put him down. And he was looking at me with his big, brown eyes that seemed to plead to me, "please, make this stop hurting. Make it go away." He was doped up but still in so much pain. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do to walk out of that room and leave him there, knowing how much he was suffering and not knowing if I would ever get to cuddle with him again.
Then we had to just wait for the doctor to call and let us know the diagnosis. That's when the pleading really began. Please, God, I have tried to face all of my obstacles as You would have me do. Please, please don't take my dog. This whole experience has been so much harder than the failed IVF cycles and the whole infertility thing because I realize that on those bad days, when I've gotten that call to let me know it didn't work, I've always had my husband and my dear, sweet dog to get me through it. And I started thinking of all those times that Gimli has curled up on the love sac with me and licked my tears away or just stayed close to me to make sure that I'm okay. And I couldn't imagine my house empty and Gimli-less. He's my little guy, my kid-so much more than just my dog. It might sound corny, but Hubbie and I are always saying things like how Gimli takes after Hubbie with his big head and stubbornness and how he takes after me in his clutziness. And my husband always says, "He's my buddy, but he loves my wife." My mom calls him her grand-dog and shows pictures to all she meets, just like a grandma should. And I got to feeling like after everything we've gone through and are going through, I just don't know if I could take losing Gimli. I know that I would make it through somehow, but I just love him so much. And I know that it's inevitable to lose a pet, or a loved one for that matter, but not now, not so unexpectedly, not Gimli.
So we waited and we prayed and we waited and we prayed. Finally, we broke down and called the vet. Good news-his bloodwork looked good, so they would be able to do the surgery. A little while later, the vet called to report that after they had sedated Gimli, they were finally able to get a catheter in. The vet said that they're going to keep flushing fluid through him to blast out the stones and hopefully he won't need the surgery. So things are looking good at the moment. We'll see how things look in the morning-whether we'll need to do the surgery or not but for the moment we've brushed by Death, casually brushing elbows, and now life is changed. I will try to never take the good things in life-like a doggie who loves me no matter what and is always happy to see me when I come home-for granted again. And one thing is for certain, the rule of no dogs on the bed may just become obsolete. Thank you, God, for hearing my prayers. Please get me through this and please just keep listening and letting me know that you're there...