Feb. 17, 2012

A day that lives in infamy. Feb. 17 is Carol's birthday. This year, it happened to be her 8th birthday.

Just so happens, last Sunday night, Fife started having massive seizures. Foaming at the mouth, peeing himself, scary seizures. And like an hour after each one, he's pull himself around by his front legs and act really, really weird. It was terrifying and very sad.

Steve took him to the emergency vet that night and they said, due to his age and his lack of lifetime seizures, this new development was almost certainly a brain tumor. There was nothing we could do other than medicate him. Our vet the next day confirmed this. We can medicate him, keep him comfortable. He might last until summer.

But as the week went on, it became apparent that he was getting worse. Fast. The seizures stopped, but the medication made it hard for him to walk. And it became increasingly hard every day. By midweek, we had decided that the best thing to do would be to put him to sleep. Steve made an appointment Thursday for Monday morning.

Just, please, I asked him, not on Carol's birthday.

But the next day (which, if you weren't keeping track, was Friday. Otherwise known as Carol's birthday) he couldn't even stand up. It was incredibly sad and apparent that something needed to be done immediately. On Carol's birthday.

Pause for saddness.

Steve and I developed a complicated tale to spin for the girls when they asked about Fife. We'd tell them later in the week, but not that day.

Funny thing. They never asked. NEVER!!! They just went about their lives as if Fife was still here. It became quite a joke between Steve and I. How long would it take? Which one would figure it out first?

And then Carol had a friend over Saturday afternoon. Her first words were, "Where's your dog?"

"At the vet," Steve promptly replied.

Later that day, after BFF was gone, we told the girls. Penny was like, Yeah. That makes sense.

And Carol? The girl who didn't notice the dog was gone for a day and a half, sobbed for about 2 hours. Sobbed and cried and talked about how much she missed Fife. Normally, I'd feel a little sad about all this sorrow, but Steve and I sort of eye-rolled to each other over AFV (America's Funniest Home Videos for all you rookies out there).

So, sure. It's weird and sad not to have Fife here. But we did the right thing. Carol's birthday wasn't ruined. And we learned how dramatic a second grader can be.

Oh, and we engaged in a little retail therapy. New refrigerator anyone!