Is It Time?

Today was the first time that I had to consider, “Is it time?” Oh, the thought has popped into my mind previously, but only in a second of panic that was quickly replaced by Bailey doing something silly or energetic or just normal.  Indeed, I had begun to think that I would never need to ask this question as Bailey’s continued energy and lack of many symptoms supported the notion that she would at some point just collapse and bleed out.  But things are different now.  Today the question of whether it is time arose to conscious thought and did not immediately recede.  The answer was clearly no, it is not time, but today, for the first time, I had to consider the question.

Things began to change a little more than a week ago—the weekend before last. Since then, Bailey’s energy level has decreased almost daily. The decline has been very gradual—almost imperceptible from one day to the next.  But, everyday respiration has become just a little more labored and motility a little more difficult. Everyday she responds a little bit slower and sleeps a little bit longer. Yes, she still gets ridiculously excited when people come to visit, but the excitement fades more quickly.  Yes, she still bounds with exuberance to greet other dogs at the park, and even plays with a puppy on occasion.  But her exuberance soon gives way to gasping, and the amount of time needed to recover has been increasing. She is still bouncing, just not as high and not for as long.

I wanted to take Bailey to the Potomac River where she can really swim. I wanted to take her to the unofficial dog beach on Theodore Roosevelt Island one more time while still alive—one of her very favorite places and the place where I have decided to return her after she dies. I awoke yesterday excited about bringing her to this treasured place, but soon knew that she would not be up to it. This morning she awoke much more energetic, so I was again hopeful. But her energy and my hope were gone after walking only up the block and back. The temperatures will dip again for several days and Bailey may or may not be alive or able to swim when warm weather returns. I still hope that the next time I return to the dog beach on TR Island she will be racing ahead of me. I hope that the next time I look over the Potomac from there I will see her swimming toward Georgetown before turning back to the island. But, this week she was clearly incapable of the walking required to get to the beach. For the first time, she was unable to enjoy an activity and a place she loves.

Today I had to ask myself whether it was time and, while the answer ultimately was no, for the first time I had to consider the question.