xoxo, me

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Colorado, United States
Volunteer Photographer Humane Colorado Animal Shelter, Kahu to The Many Paws, Mimi to three lovely little humans, Creator of Whee Ones (stuffies), Art Lover, Wannabe Writer, Cat & Dog Person

Sunday, December 14, 2025

4 Hours

Monday evening we noticed Teddi’s breathing had changed. She didn’t seem extremely distressed but it was different. By Tuesday morning her breathing was more labored and we became concerned. She couldn’t get comfortable. She couldn't lay down. She followed me and sat next to me, looking up at me as if to say, “Can you help me?”

It just happened so fast. From the time I took her to the Vet at 9:30, then being sent to the ER to four hours later saying our last goodbye at 1:30pm. It was too much. Our brains couldn’t take it all in and our hearts couldn’t even come close.

When I got to the ER with her I was calm. I had done this many times with Koko and Kizzie. Go to the ER, get some tests, get some new meds and go home. So when the man at the front desk realized who we were (our Vet had called ahead to explain our situation) I heard “Stat!” and he asked the other people at the desk to be patient, we have a critical patient here.

Critical? Did he just say critical? And he was talking about Teddi? Teddi was whisked away, I was put in a room and the nerves started setting in. She’s critical? She’s critical.

I waited for what seemed like hours, but I’m sure it was less than 10 minutes. I realized they were doing a quick evaluation on Teddi. The Doctor came in, introduced herself, asked what I had noticed with Teddi, what medications she was on (five and I’m impressed I remembered all of them). I explained that Teddi has always had a little bit of a wheeze when breathing but it started getting substantially worse last night. Surprisingly she slept fine through the night so we thought maybe it was just temporary.

But this morning it returned with a vengeance. I knew she needed to be seen. The Doctor left to gather more information from the medical staff examining Teddi. The finance person came in to go over the 2-3 day hospital stay that was being recommended, the tests that most likely would be done. It was a hefty price and she asked if I wanted to think about it. Nope, here’s my credit card, do whatever needs to be done.

She asked if I would like to see Teddi before leaving. Of course I did. I sat on the floor and pet her confused little face thru a window to the oxygen “chamber” she was in. Despite being 10.5 years old she looked like a puppy. 

I left thinking – ok, she’ll be in the hospital for a couple of days, they will do tests, we’ll get some new meds and go home. So I was feeling ok. She was in good hands.

So when the Doctor called at 1:00 I was expecting just an update. I got one but it wasn’t what I had hoped for. First, her heart was fine. Whew, I felt uplifted. But… there was the but… The diagnosis is a blood clot in her lung. Can anything be done for that? No. Despite being at 60% oxygen (40% is on the high end) her breathing is worsening, her distress is worsening.

So you’re telling me it’s time.

Yes, and if you can get here soon…

I was in the little room again, but this time with Charlie, waiting for the Doctor. She came in expressing her sympathy, asked if we had questions. Only a couple that we already knew the answers to. She explained Teddi will be in a private room with an oxygen mask held up to her face to facilitate her breathing.

We were escorted to the room and saw our sweet little girl lying tummy down on a soft blanket. I recognized the iv portals in her arm, ready for euthanasia. I quickly glanced away from that. A very kind Technician was holding the mask of oxygen up to her nose. Teddi's breathing was shallow and slow.

We whispered soft, loving words, pet her, hugged her thru tears. I don’t know if she knew we were there. I looked at her perfect little body, the soft fur, the big brown eyes now vacant.

We told the Tech we were ready and she left to get the Doctor. The Doctor came, explained what she was about to do and we nodded. As the drug were administered I saw Teddi’s head lower and then land softly on the blanket.

The Doctor listened for her heart, no longer beating and said, “She is at peace.”

My head fell to the table. I embraced Teddi one last time and sobbed.

Not now, not yet, Teddi. But she was gone.