Bigosia's Transition to the Other Side

UPDATE: Scroll to the bottom.

We got Bigosia from an animal shelter 9 years ago.  She had been returned just the day before by her previous owners, who had her for about 9 months.  Prior to that, she had been a stray puppy.  She was named Bugle because of her beagle howl, which was actually quite scarce.  We named her Bigos, which means "hunter's stew" in Polish, as a play on "beagle".  Bigosia is a diminutive of that.

Bigosia was always laid back and low energy.  Which turned out to be a great fit with us lazy folk, lol.  But after two years, we felt bad that she was home alone all day while Oscar and I worked.  So we got her a brother, Hunter.  He turned out to be high maintenance and a trouble maker from the start, but bless her heart, Bigosia tolerated him for six years, until Hunter went to live with a new family last summer.

When Bigosia first joined our family, we didn't know if we would have kids.  We had just gotten our infertility diagnosis, and over the next two years, all adoption attempts kept falling through.  I romanticized her in my mind.  I didn't dress her up and otherwise treat her like a human child, but nurturing her did satisfy that desire for motherhood to a degree.

A little over three years ago, our daughter was born.  Unfortunately, that was the end of my babying Bigosia.  These last few years have been a matter of putting up with the responsibilities of pet ownership because we made that commitment, but there wasn't much joy in the process.  New parenthood had enough requirements that there just wasn't anything left for the doggies.  Once Hunter left, we realized that we just aren't dog people, and we agreed to never get another pet.  But we didn't expect Bigosia to be on her way out so soon after Hunter.

At first, it was just some slightly elevated calcium in her blood.  We'd watch and retest later, per vet advice.  But then she quit eating her dry dog food, and we assumed it was because she didn't get her teeth cleaned when the bloodwork showed the high calcium.  We thought it was painful to eat, so we started to wet her food, which worked for a while.  Then she stopped liking that.  We tried it with broth instead of water, which worked for a while.  Then she stopped liking that.  So we finally decided to risk getting her teeth cleaned, thinking that it would improve her quality of life and help her eat comfortably again.

But after her teeth cleaning, she quickly deteriorated.  She became progressively more picky in her food selection.  She would go days barely picking at her food.  So we tried some canned food, figuring maybe the wetness and flavor of that would entice her.  It worked for a short while, but then she stopped touching the stuf.  We tried some dehydrated dog food, where you can actually see the real whole foods.  She loved it.  The first and second time.  And then she stopped eating that.

We knew there were several possible causes of the elevated calcium in her blood, but we were not prepared to start an array of diagnostic testing, which could be quite pricey, when we knew that the most likely treatments would be too expensive and invasive to undergo for an aging dog.  We were told that as she got older, she may just be getting picky with her eating, or not want to eat as much.

When she developed a small growth near her nose, we thought we'd take her in to see if it was a tick that burrowed itself in there.  That's when we first realized how little she's been eating.  She had lost a lot of weight.  The growth proved harmless, but the weight loss alerted us to pay closer attention to her.

Over the next week or so, we realized that she would follow the same pattern even with human food.  First, she left untouched a kong full of her favorite - peanut butter.  Then, she'd scoff at rice and beans, eggs (hard boiled, fried, scrambled...), hash browns.  She ate three handfulls of her doggie treats once, and we thought we were on to something, but she wouldn't touch a single one the next day. No matter what we'd offer her, she'd eat it once, and then scoff at it the second time.  She'd be intrested in food - our food - but wouldn't want to eat.  We tried a five day course of an apetite medication, which proved a challenge in itself, as it was a tablet to be taken by mouth, quite a feat for a dog who won't eat.  It made no difference.

Two weeks after the first low weight visit, we were back at the vet's office.  Not only were we running out of food to offer her, and she seemed to be interested only in things she had never had before, but we also noticed that she started breathing fast - all the time.  Her black fur camoflauged the fact that she was now, upon closer examination, quite bony.  In just two weeks, she had lost more weight.

We had a full blood panel done and xrays.  It was as we suspected - there was a large growth over her spleen, pushing her intestines up into her chest. I suspect that she doesn't feel her hunger, but rather feels constantly full and therefore unwilling to take in more food.  She may associate food with pain in her abdomen.  She often sniffs a new offering, goes outside to, presumably, make room for the food.  She also drinks water, seemingly to help her "go #2" and make room for food.  This is all my interpreation, of course.  But the bottom line is that she's not taking in enough calories to maintain her strength for much longer.

Natalka kididi

Antosik kididi

We were referred to a supposedly affordable hospital in the next state for surgery, to remove the growth.  At first, we had set a dollar amount on what we were willing to pay going forward, having just spent $400 on the xray and bloodwork.  But when we were faced with the facts, nothing was clear-cut anymore.  The vet and her assistants were all full of anectdotal stories of dogs with similar issues having a similar procedure and then going on to live anywhere from a year and a half to nine years.  Bigos is now 11.  We figured, all things being normal, she'd be around for another four years or so.

A part of me wants to be done with it.  It seems having the surgery would only postpone the inevitable.  Do we want to deal with this now or in a few years?  Another part of me says it's not fair to end her life because it'd be easier for me.

But today, I sat and petted her and talked to her and cried my eyes out, asking what she wanted.  Of course she was no help in that regard.  But here's what I came up with.

If we do the surgery, the biopsy that would be a part of the surgery could reveal cancer.  In that case, it may or may not return.  If it does, are we going to keep doing surgery?  We already said we wouldn't do chemo on  her.  What kind of quality of life is that for her to keep having diagnostic tests done, to face subseuqent surgeries, or chemo?

Even best case scenario, the surgery goes swimmingly and she's with us for another 4 years.  But is the stress of the surgery and all that goes with it going to be worth it to her?  The hard truth is that we are not pet-people, and we are kidding ourselves if we think we're going to change if given another chance.  I'd love to be able to say that I'd be that perfect pet-parent that Bigosia deserves, and that she'd enjoy frequent walks, lots of belly rubs, tons of daily attention, for several years after surgery.  But the truth is, we have two small children who are our priority, and we just don't have it in us to be those pet-parents.  I'd be lying and fooling myself if I think a second chance would be any different. I want to make up for the six years Bigosia had to put up with Hunter.  But I cannot promise it.

We cannot let her starve to death or wait for the mass, which may be a clot, to burst.  The decision has to be made asap, and the choices are clear: surgery or euthenasia.  I hate being in this position.  I do not like having to make a life-or-death decision for another living being.  And yet, if I want to be honest with myself, how is this different from eating meat?  (This is why I've struggled with the desire to be vegetarian or even vegan.)

What's more, I believe that all of God's creation is eternal in some way.  You know, the whole energy can neither be created nor destroyed bit.  So releasing Bigosia from her physical suffering would also release her from the limitations of our boring home life.  I don't know if she'd come back as another dog, a different creature, or simply be free to roam the universe as a different constellation of star dust, not limited to an earthly existence.  But she would be free.

Trip to vet where we got our bad news.

Bigosia was always such a good dog.

She started shivering for longer intervals.

Surgery at this time would be done 1) to postpone the inevitable, 2) in hopes of the rest of her life being worthwhile for her, and 3) assuming no futher tests or treatment would be necessary.  Based on these three points, I'm leaning away from putting her through surgery.  The financial expense would only be an added source of angst if the surgery wouldn't be the cure-all we hope for.

Option #1: surgery
Best case scenario - both our kids can form more memories of her, experience life with a pet, benefit from her presence as far as allergies and nature study are concerned. When the kids are older, it would be a hard but good lesson in life cycles for them.  But this sounds too much like using Bigosia for our own benefits.  She already fulfilled her purpose, I think, by being there for us when we didn't have kids.

Worse case scenario - we'll be right back to this dilema after surgery, and either keep doling out more money and stressing over the remainder of her time with us, something she'd also pick up on, or make the decision to cut our loses at that point, and regret not having done it sooner.

Option #2: euthenasia
Of course this is so difficult because it's final, and I'll miss her, but the truth is, I miss the ideal of her.  I already miss who I was to her when she was "my kid".  I can't recreate the past for either of us.  Postponing the inevitable is not very productive.

The vet said basically that the decision to euthenize is based on an assesment of the dog's quality of life.  Eathing and drinking, not being in pain, and generally enjoying being a part of the family.  Well, while she did wag her tail when they brought her back to the room after her xray and bloodwork, it is hard to assess how much she enjoys living with us.  She spends her days sleeping, getting up only to drink (used to be to eat, but not anymore) and to go outside.  She never initiates play or seeks us out for affection.  This is part of her personality.  She's always been a loner.  I think this is why she tolerated Hunter so well.  But to say that she "enjoys being a part of the family" is a stretch, I think. Honestly, I think she would be equally happy released to the cosmos.

At first, I was gung-ho about the surgery.  I wanted another chance to give her a few more years of attention that she didn't get these last three years.  I wanted to be able to say that we did what we could.  But the more I think about it, the more I think I'm kidding myself.  I think doing the surgery would placate me, but I don't think it would actually make life better for Bigosia.

It seems strange to choose euthenasia for her right now because she's still drinking water, going outside, and letting us pet her (seeming to enjoy it as well).  But we are not in a position to just let her condition deteriorate on its own.

The idea of making peace with her leaving our family is hard.  I want to take a few pictures of the kids with Bigosia.  All of us together perhaps.  Take her for one last walk.  Brush her fur and clean her ears one more time.  And then?  Decide when to take her in, and who will go with her.

All that remains is to talk with Oscar to see what he thinks after having some time to sleep on it.

UPDATE: It has been almost two weeks since Bigosia's passing.  The first three or four days were particularly difficult for me.  I was bawling all over the place.  I hated coming home to an empty house, even entering the room where she'd hang out.  I checked outside for her.  I listened for her nails scratching at the door or on the kitchen floor.  I listened for her noisy water drinking.  I listened for her tiny half-barks she'd make through her sleep.  I felt her presence, but I couldn't see or hear her.  It was awful.  I had a lot of processing to do.  A lot of emotions to work through, guilt and regret at the forefront.

The day Bigosia passed away.

I'm glad we found out more about the surgery.  We actually had it scheduled for early the next morning when the sky seemed to crumble when Oscar pointed out that the expense was adding up.  It wasn't just surgery, there was aftercare, and various little things, and the hotel stays.  But when it came down to it, I didn't care about the cost.  I wasn't prepared to make this decision over money, and I'm glad that it is not what it came down to.  What it did come down to was the possible complications from surgery or afterwards, the likely continued health issues afterwards due to Bigosia's unique situation, including the likelihood of it having been cancer and infections she'd be more prone to after the removal of her spleen (which would've been a part of the exploratory surgery), and the fact that she's suffered from heart episodes during anesthesia in the past.  In the end, we didn't want to put her through so much physical and emotional trauma just for a chance of a little more time.  After all, she wasn't a young dog, either.

Natalia takes Bigosia for her last walk around PetSmart.

I felt the pressure to get it over with as Bigosia was clearly suffering those last few days.  Even though she perked up at some meat and ate a whole rotissery chicken the two days before her passing, the day of, she hardly had any of the bacon I made for her, or the hotdog.  She didn't touch the treats the vet gave her when it was almost time.  She was so exhausted from living; how could we not release her from her pain?  It seemed like we were choosing not to let her live longer by passing on the surgery, but I have to remind myself that it was exploratory surgery, with zero guarantees and lots of likely complications.  We did what we knew was best for her.

Bigosia had a good life with us.  Nine years as part of our family.  It sucks that I hadn't realized how much she meant to me until it was time to say goodbye, that I didn't thank God for her until after she was gone.  But in the aftermath of her passing, I'm gaining great spiritual insights thanks to her.  She continues to bless me, a "mere animal".  Which brings me to my next point.

Some people  - pet people - welcome a new pet into their homes after the loss.  We agreed we were not going to do that.  Instead, the way I see honoring Bigosia is by a renewed desire and comitment to less and less animal foods.  A plant-based diet is better for our health, the environment, and of course the individual animals in question.  And that's what I can't let go of.  Bigos was one dog.  Look at how much grieving I've done over a single animal.  She was a sentient being with a unique personality.  How can I disregard this fact and carry on eating other animals just because I haven't met them personally?  Just because the meat products have been so thoroughly transformed so as to hide any hint of it having been a part of an animal's body?  How much longer am I going to live in denial that eating meat hurts living beings?  I don't mean just that it kills them.  I mean that modern food industry, in the interest of profit, tortures the animals that are being raised for meat.  There is no use sugar-coating it any further.  Practically speaking, I won't go hungry if there isn't a vegetarian or better-yet vegan alternative in a given situation (like when visiting someone's home), but I really need to do better when it comes to eating out, educating myself about what restaurants have available plant-based dishes that actually satisfy.  The darn ceaser salad can kiss my behind, that is not a meal.  But I digress.

Saying goodbye.

Thank you, Bigosia, for your mere presence and for allowing God to teach me through your life, your death, and your memory.

Last photo of our family of five, right before taking Bigosia to her last appointment.

What I learned from my higher education

I have a very non-mainstream view of higher education, based not only on my personal experience but on all the research I have done and continue to do in the area of home education.  The bottom line lesson I've learned, the lesson that has given me the freedom to reframe my goals for my children's education, is this:  a college degree is no guarantee for a successful life.  It's not even a guarantee for a successful career, or even a job upon graduation!

Yet if we look at mainstream parenting, one feature that jumps out is the obsession with "educating" our children.  Earlier and earlier focus on premature academics, followed by a sedentary classroom existence for 13 years, all so that the child can enter a competitive college and - what? Find their way in the pecking order of the rat race?  I'll opt out, thanks anyway.  Instead of learning anything of worth, our children are being spoon fad facts and taught to the test.  A lucky few actually come to care about anything being taught them, or they find the time to learn about their passions on their own time.

But this isn't a post about the perils of modern American education.  This post is looking at the things that I actually DID learn in my 8 years of higher education.  Interestingly, none of these things are facts, but rather skills.  Skills that I have internalized and used as part of my everyday life in making decisions for my family.  Skills that have led me to decide to homeschool my kids.  Skills that have made me realize that my goals for my kids do not necessarily include college.  Here's why.

I started my college career at Northern Virginia Commnity College.  There, I learned how to organize classes at different campuses and at different times, and how to prioritize the various graduation requirements. I "majored" in general studies.  Basically, more of the same stuff I was taking in high school at infinitismally more advanced levels. (In an interesting turn of events, I eventually taught at NVCC for a decade!)

After a quick stint in the Army, I resumed my college education at what is now the University of Mary Washington.  Here, I created my own major - Linguistics and Women's Studies, where I followed my passions and studied what I enjoyed... in addition to fulfilling general education requirements. (Shouldn't those have been established by the time of high school graduation?) I gained valuable exposure to women's issues across disciplines, including religion, sociology, and psychology.  I also gained an in-depth comparative look at the language and identity experiences of two immigrant women very close to me - my mom and my mother-in-law.

I learned critical thinking and research skills.  I learned to question authoritative mainstream opinions.  I learned to differentiate between opinion and fact.  I learned the difference between correlation and causation.  I learned how to recognize reliable sources.  These are all skills that many of my peers do not have, based on the various asanine arguments I hear against home education and my parenting philosophy (both researched thoroughly before being implemented).

At MWC (it was Mary Washington College still when I attended), I also learned to write effectively for a variety of purposes and gained the confidence to speak in front of groups of people since writing-intensive and speaking-intensive coursework was part of the curriculum.  (Thanks to the latter especially, I was able to teach adults for a decade, in spite of having social anxiety in front of strangers.)

My graduate studies (in sociolinguistics) were conducted at Georgetown University.  At GU, I learned how to pay attention to - and interpret - words in advertisements, lyrics, magazine articles, speeches, court transcripts, everyday conversations.  I learned to observe and interpret nonverbal cues in body language and images.  I learned the difference between implication and inference.

The hardest thing I learned at GU, though, was how to know when to quit.  I realized a bit too late (for my pocketbook especially) that even a doctoral degree was no guarantee of a successful career.  It was only after I had submitted the first draft of the first chapter of my dissertation that I finally realized that I had been fed a lie.  No one is going to be knocking on my door the day after I defend my dissertation offering me a lucrative teaching position that will allow me to quickly pay off my student loans and build a comfy nest egg.  I was paralyzed between this realization and the regret of all the time and money that had already gone into pursuing this pipe dream.  Finally withdrawing from the program and ending my formal higher education was like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

My education did not teach me how to market my skills and knowledge in order to land employment.  It did, however, prepare me to homeschool and provide an effective education to my own kids.  And I have to say that it really rubs me the wrong way when I hear it implied that this is somehow a waste.  If I were to influence anyone for the good thanks to what I have learned over the years, who can benefit more from my influence than my own children?  And if I don't prioritize them, who will?  What would be the point of me outsourcing their education to someone else while I continue teaching others?  Where is the logic in that?  Or is the point really that these naysayers feel sorry for me, assuming that I'm not being fulfilled through my children, because how can I be fulfilled without a paycheck proving that I have worth?   But really this is veering into the homeschooling and stay-home-parenting debate, which is not the point of this post.

I learned a lot from my higher education.  None of it should have had to wait until I finished high school to begin.  I should've mastered all of these skills in my primary and secondary education.  And this is precisely what I intend to provide through educating my children at home.  So that if they choose to pursue a college degree, they will know at the onset 1) that their post-graduation goals necessitate a degree, and 2) which degree.  And if they choose not to pursue college?  Then the world is nonetheless their oyster.