Cant even keep water down
- Thread starter Nocona
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So sorry to hear about Mason. I know that they had to up the dosage of prednisone for our Mya before we were able to see any noticeable improvement - it made the world of difference and improved her quality of life. Sending you lots of positive and healing thoughts in hopes that your Mason feels better soon. Will be anxiously waiting for an update ~ Cathy
sinbad'smom
Super Boxer
sending more healing vibes to mason..hope he feels better real soon..just know that you have given him a great life and alot of love....sending sloppy boxer kisses to you both from sinbad and sierra...dora
I want to update everyone on Mason and say thanks for your support, I know the people on this board can understand what we have been through and what our precious little buddies mean to us. To keep from having to go through the pain of reliving last Sunday by writing about it, here is a copy of what my Wife e-mailed our friends and Family.
This is a truly sad day for me and Guy as we have had to bury our dog, friend and buddy, Mason, yesterday . Two weeks ago this past Friday Mason stopped eating. He couldn't hold anything down. After coaxing all weekend Guy took him to the vet and there he stayed for the whole week. We brought him home last weekend hoping to see some improvement, but there was none. Back to the vet on Monday again and on Thursday a specialist diagnosed malignant lymphoma. Incurable. Mason came home that day having been started on Prednisone in hopes of improving things somewhat to buy us more time with him. We were to know by the end of the weekend if it was working. It did not, and this weekend has been a long and excruciating one for us. Our precious little buddy, Woofie, The Pooch, Mr. Majestic, was wasting away in front of our eyes, weak and trembling. Bowls lined the floor filled with everything that I could think of that might get him interested in eating s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g to regain some strength. To no avail.
We planned on Monday being the day to decide. Chemo was an option, but was it a good choice? Incurable was the key word. We spent our time laying with him on his bed, hugging and kissing his soft round head and squooshy, floppy face. Saying our goodbyes and reminicsing about what joy that little fellow had brought us. He was the child left at home after the kids grew up. The agony of it all, no sleep for anyone, stressing over the decision to be made that we didn't want to make in the first place. There is no saving him, but we don't want to lose him. Every time he'd perk up and walk in his yard a bit our hopes would rise, and then sink again as his body would heave violently to expel from his stomach something that wasn't there , as though his very insides were being sucked out of him. Even in his misery he got up to greet Renee' or Larry when they came in. We didn't know if he was in pain but sometimes he couldn't get comfortable in his bed. We couldn't bear the idea of loading Mason up in the truck in the wet cold for a long ride to Keller, laying him on that steel table and have him fear that we were going to leave him there again. And then the long drive back home after. So Guy called Sunday morning to see if we could get a local vet to come to the house. Now we were cutting our time shorter, but we couldn't endure the suffering of another long night, especially if it got worse. We waited hours for a vet to call back and finally Guy said it didn't look like it was going to happen today. I felt relief that we all had been granted a 1 day reprieve. The tension lifted a little. Then the phone rang and the vet said he could be here in 30 minutes. He'd been at church of course, which is why it took so long to call back. My heart seized up again. We prepared again. Guy went out to wait in the garage for the vet and for some reason Mason got up and wobbled out after him. The vision of him standing watch with his master for the arrival of Dr. Death was more than I could stand, Guy either. They went back in and I waited outside. The vet was a young soft spoken man. He owns boxers himself and could identify with our feelings about our special companion. He knelt down on the floor and greeted Mason, petting him and scratching under his neck. He talked with us awhile and presented himself as a friendly visitor, putting us and Mason at ease. After assuring us that our decision was best under this diagnosis he gently did his deed. Mason still had a catheter in his leg from his previous vet visit so there was not even the pain of a needle. It was swift, quiet and painless. He took his last breath lying in his home, in his bed, and in Guys arms. Caressed by the master he had gifted with 9 wonderful years of loyalty, companionship and joy. Mason loved his family, his 7 acre kingdom that he roamed freely without a fence but never strayed from. He loved to bring the horses in from the pasture, leading them with a rope by himself. He loved to kiss the stray calves that squeezed under the fences. He loved his talking toys, knew them by name, and always brought one as gift when we walked in the door.
His bed, toys and bowls are removed. Eveything with his smell is being washed. No more heart ripping decisions. No more 85 pounds of Mason in my lap to hug, no more fighting for space in the bed on a cold night, only to roll over to the edge and let him lay cuddled between us, our feet overlapping.
I write this because I will talk with some of you soon and I want you to know the story so I don't have to relate it again. And also because some of you have been there already and I now know your pain. Some of you may experience it some day, and I will share your pain then.
It is lonely here. But even so, we are not without blessings.
This is a truly sad day for me and Guy as we have had to bury our dog, friend and buddy, Mason, yesterday . Two weeks ago this past Friday Mason stopped eating. He couldn't hold anything down. After coaxing all weekend Guy took him to the vet and there he stayed for the whole week. We brought him home last weekend hoping to see some improvement, but there was none. Back to the vet on Monday again and on Thursday a specialist diagnosed malignant lymphoma. Incurable. Mason came home that day having been started on Prednisone in hopes of improving things somewhat to buy us more time with him. We were to know by the end of the weekend if it was working. It did not, and this weekend has been a long and excruciating one for us. Our precious little buddy, Woofie, The Pooch, Mr. Majestic, was wasting away in front of our eyes, weak and trembling. Bowls lined the floor filled with everything that I could think of that might get him interested in eating s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g to regain some strength. To no avail.
We planned on Monday being the day to decide. Chemo was an option, but was it a good choice? Incurable was the key word. We spent our time laying with him on his bed, hugging and kissing his soft round head and squooshy, floppy face. Saying our goodbyes and reminicsing about what joy that little fellow had brought us. He was the child left at home after the kids grew up. The agony of it all, no sleep for anyone, stressing over the decision to be made that we didn't want to make in the first place. There is no saving him, but we don't want to lose him. Every time he'd perk up and walk in his yard a bit our hopes would rise, and then sink again as his body would heave violently to expel from his stomach something that wasn't there , as though his very insides were being sucked out of him. Even in his misery he got up to greet Renee' or Larry when they came in. We didn't know if he was in pain but sometimes he couldn't get comfortable in his bed. We couldn't bear the idea of loading Mason up in the truck in the wet cold for a long ride to Keller, laying him on that steel table and have him fear that we were going to leave him there again. And then the long drive back home after. So Guy called Sunday morning to see if we could get a local vet to come to the house. Now we were cutting our time shorter, but we couldn't endure the suffering of another long night, especially if it got worse. We waited hours for a vet to call back and finally Guy said it didn't look like it was going to happen today. I felt relief that we all had been granted a 1 day reprieve. The tension lifted a little. Then the phone rang and the vet said he could be here in 30 minutes. He'd been at church of course, which is why it took so long to call back. My heart seized up again. We prepared again. Guy went out to wait in the garage for the vet and for some reason Mason got up and wobbled out after him. The vision of him standing watch with his master for the arrival of Dr. Death was more than I could stand, Guy either. They went back in and I waited outside. The vet was a young soft spoken man. He owns boxers himself and could identify with our feelings about our special companion. He knelt down on the floor and greeted Mason, petting him and scratching under his neck. He talked with us awhile and presented himself as a friendly visitor, putting us and Mason at ease. After assuring us that our decision was best under this diagnosis he gently did his deed. Mason still had a catheter in his leg from his previous vet visit so there was not even the pain of a needle. It was swift, quiet and painless. He took his last breath lying in his home, in his bed, and in Guys arms. Caressed by the master he had gifted with 9 wonderful years of loyalty, companionship and joy. Mason loved his family, his 7 acre kingdom that he roamed freely without a fence but never strayed from. He loved to bring the horses in from the pasture, leading them with a rope by himself. He loved to kiss the stray calves that squeezed under the fences. He loved his talking toys, knew them by name, and always brought one as gift when we walked in the door.
His bed, toys and bowls are removed. Eveything with his smell is being washed. No more heart ripping decisions. No more 85 pounds of Mason in my lap to hug, no more fighting for space in the bed on a cold night, only to roll over to the edge and let him lay cuddled between us, our feet overlapping.
I write this because I will talk with some of you soon and I want you to know the story so I don't have to relate it again. And also because some of you have been there already and I now know your pain. Some of you may experience it some day, and I will share your pain then.
It is lonely here. But even so, we are not without blessings.
One of the things that I have learned from this is no matter how much you trust your Vet, if after 3 days and they dont have a diagnosis take them to a specialist.The thing that haunts me with Mason is he had to spend 9 days in a hospital in a cage where he hated and at a cost of over 900.00 for no diagnosis and going downhill. When they finally did refer him to a specialist it took a internal medicine specialist just a couple of hours to find the cause and what treatment was avaliable for our Mason's illness at a cost of 600.00. The money is not a issue here its those 9 days my buddie suffered that Im having a hard time getting over.
Holden's Mom
Boxer Insane
Oh, my I just found this thread and am so sorry for your loss. Mason must have been such a special fella, your very best friend. And losing them is the most difficult of life's experiences. He is no longer suffering and I'm sure he is keeping watch over those he loved.
Godspeed Mason.
Pam and Pete
Godspeed Mason.
Pam and Pete
sinbad'smom
Super Boxer
mason
i am sooo very sorry for your loss.i know that pain..there are no words to express how deeply i know you are hurting.just keep thinking of all the good times and know that you gave him a great life and he loved you for it..and know he is playing now and in no pain and you will see him again one day...dora
i am sooo very sorry for your loss.i know that pain..there are no words to express how deeply i know you are hurting.just keep thinking of all the good times and know that you gave him a great life and he loved you for it..and know he is playing now and in no pain and you will see him again one day...dora
Scrapper's Mom
Boxer Insane
I'm so sorry for you losing Mason. What a touching note your wife wrote. Nothing we can say will make you feel better right now; please just know that we are thinking of you and praying that God hold you close. That must have been a neat thing to see him leading the horses in and kissing those baby calves.
*hugs*
*hugs*
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