When I landed in Albuquerque Melinda met me at the baggage claim. I knew things were not good since she said we have to rush. We drove through Albuquerque to the pet hospital. Ushered into the urgent care I saw my best friend with all kinds of tubes and monitors on him. His beautiful gold coat was now a dull yellow. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and droopy. Vizzy was comatose. As he heard my voice, Vizzy perked up and tried to get up to come see me. The vets were shocked.
We were able to take Vizzy outside and sit under a tree. Vizzy smiled as I petted him. He pointed at, and “hunted”, some insects buzzing us in the hot Albuquerque air. We stayed outside together for a couple of hours, way past our allowed visiting time of 30 minutes. I could tell Vizzy was stressed to be away from his brothers Berton and Squirt, and away from home. Instead of leaving Vizzy in the strange and harsh environment I opted to take him home for the night, see how he did, and reevaluate things in the morning.
Arriving at home in the much cooler Santa Fe air with Vizzy was comforting. The doctors in Albuquerque clearly let us know Vizzy’s liver had failed and they were not sure what could be done. I was still in denial. All he needed was time at home with the family and we could figure this out — I hoped.
That night was tough for him. At one point Vizzy staggered outside into the cool air and crawled up under some aspen trees. I slept in the dirt next to him, patting him hoping he was not in too much pain. We feel asleep out there together to the sound of a pair of Great Horned Owls calling each other. It was long night though and Vizzy was in pain. He kept looking at me as if he had done something wrong. Vizzy had internal bleeding and all I could do was hold him and hope for a miracle.
At daybreak we took Vizzy to our local vet. He was absolutely loved there. I knew that they might be able to offer some help. The staff and some of the vets were hiding their tears, as we all huddled around Vizzy discussing treatment options. We all knew though that Vizzy’s prognosis was not good. But Vizzy was a survivor.
As we caressed his big floppy soft ears Vizzy started to bleed out. We knew that it was his time. We all said goodbye and thanked him for all his love, playfulness, and being the life of the party. Vizzy was a legend in our area. The veterinarians reminded us about how many people knew about “this dog”, a very special one that would stop traffic just to get his ears rubbed. Vizzy.
Vizzy passed away on July 9, 2016. We buried Vizzy under the aspen trees where we slept together that one last night. That night where I wished I could roll back time and change things. Today, October 9th, three months later, I still cannot believe he is gone. This “thing” came out of nowhere.