This morning’s post was supposed to be accompanied by this photo. While Aremid seems upset here, and he was, because he was at the vet, at least he was up and about and observing. Right now, he is in a pathetic curl-up up against me on the couch. He’s in more of a jagged oval than a circle. And he’s listless. I can see his side filling with air and then releasing it. Is this labored breathing or how it has always looked? I should know from watching him for 16 years. But I don’t. Or, more likely, I just don’t want to know.
I have been in denial. I think my vet was trying to gently let me know this morning that I should be planning to put Aremid down soon. The ultrasound was inconclusive, just like it was last year. Last year, Aremid rebounded a bit, particularly after he started prednisalone. But that weapon has already been used. Now, we’ve just added anti-nausea and appetite-stimulant meds. I don’t think they’ve made much difference over the past 10 hours. When I put Aremid in front of food, he seems to be devouring it. But he doesn’t stay on top of the food long enough to devour very much, and I don’t seem him returning on his own.
The signs are there if I want to see them. He is doing “lipsmacks” which is when he seems to be licking the top and bottom of his mouth, particularly after just having eaten. This means he is feeling nauseated. His eyes often seem like they’re focused on absolutely nothing. He hasn’t been hiding out-of-sight all that much, but typically when he’s next to me, he still has that aloof hiding vibe about him.
Just last week, he seemed to be ok, but that’s how these final days and weeks and months and years go. Every glimpse of his old behavior gives the false hope that he is rebounding. Today is the first day that I truly beginning to get it, that Aremid probably isn’t going to be rebounding.