The Z man ate all his food yesterday but didn't really get up to do it.
He threw up twice (have we ever seen him throw up? Not without
veterinary intervention, I don't think.) and peed inside. The pee I
don't mind but the barf? That's not so good.

He was panting quite a bit before getting his evening meds. They did
help him stop, so that's something. But I do suspect the end is upon
us.

We've never eased an old dog into the sunset like this. Ellie went with
quite a bang. Even though she was the first dog we lost, it was so so
obvious that we couldn't fix her or even manage her pain. When she got
the sedative before the shot at the end, she fell right asleep, snoring
like crazy. She hadn't slept in 2 days, the pain had kept her up.

With her, we waited a day too long. I'll always have some guilt about
that.

Alice's passing was tumultuous and heartbreaking. I still can't talk
about that day out loud and I can barely talk about her without crying.
But her passing? That was sort of on her own terms, fraught with the
same kind of fanfare that framed most of her life with us.

She was my firstborn. Having a child has not changed my feelings about
this.

And Gus, his body failed him so catastrophically that we had no choice
but to let him go. It was so so clear.

The Z man, as always, is his own wacky story. I'm listening closely to
him, waiting for him to tell me he's ready. I see glimpses of it, but
then he'll rise, head outside to pee or eat plain kibble. So we're
still just listening, but maybe a little closer now.

It's been almost a month since that long night at the vet. I'm glad
he's had this time, resting in his bed, eating the fancy food and doing
well on the new medications. I know that 'well' is a relative term for
a dog his age and with his failing body but I'll take it. For now.