Never was Mocha more content than when she was curled up in my recliner. She had two years with us after spending ten years with Sharon L who was compelled to move into an apartment that did not allow dogs. With a large dose of serendipity and a friend of a friend, she moved in with us lock, stock, bed, and dog toys. We had just lost Baxter and were ripe to adopt another Golden Retriever. She was a calm senior citizen which matched our life style just fine.
For the first year or so she and Durella enjoyed their after supper walk. As we began to spend our first summer in Charleston instead of in a motorhome on the Maine coast, even the evening cool was not cool enough and the walks stopped. She thoroughly patrolled the back yard and kept the egrets at bay. She did NOT like thunderstorms which began to occur almost daily as the summer progressed.
Yesterday (15 Aug) everything was completely normal. She ate, took care of business and went to bed as always. There was no vomiting or diarrhea. I noticed the first change when I got up at seven. She always sleeps by our bedside, making it difficult for me to climb out of bed. She was gone. I found her curled up in a recliner in the living room...red flag #1. She opened her eyes, but did not raise her head...red flag #2. I decided to let her go back to sleep while I went into the study. Durelle got up at eight, and Mocha was still in the recliner...red flag #3. With a lot of coaxing Durelle was able to get her outside with hind legs that were not completely coordinated, but she just lay down without peeing...red flag #4. Durelle managed to get her back inside and offered her a Frosty Paws. We have used them with her and other goldens to counteract seizure symptoms. I think it helps the blood sugar. She wouldn't touch the ice cream...red flag #5.
I called the vet and asked them to standby as I was unable to carry her into the office. Then we slid a blanket under her, enlisted the aid of our daughter, and slid, dragged and carried her to the car. A couple of experienced young techs carried her to the first exam room. A thorough physical exam revealed a misshapen, bleeding spleen, lethargy, and pale gums. The next step was ultrasound. It confirmed the damage to the spleen, a tumor on it, and bleeding into the abdominal cavity. Durelle and I agreed to immediate emergency surgery.
Dr. Brent Lerma has been Mocha's only vet on our watch. He would be doing the surgery. As expected, they found the damaged spleen and the bleeding, but the liver and other organs looked clean. They stopped the bleeding, removed the spleen and were about to close up and turn off the anesthesia when the heart rate and BP plummeted. They used emergency meds to try to restart the heart and they did CPR, but they lost her. Later when I was talking with Dr. Lerma, I swear his lower lip was quivering when he said, "We almost saved her. We were that close." The tech who assisted was also distraught, "Damn, we were done!" They all gave it their best, caring shot.
Dr. Lerma summed it up, "We had to try. If we had done nothing, she would have died tomorrow."
It was only six hours from first red flags until she was gone. Quick is painful, but I suppose slow is worse. She had a good life with two caring owners. She was the queen of the campground in Maine where people volunteered to walk her if we were away. She died while anesthetized, without pain. Rest in peace, Mocha.
