#when moby shoves his nose in the food bin he looks like miller

[sidetongue]

There are so many people in my day to day life who see dogs as just pets. So many people who don’t understand how much I’m struggling with Miller’s condition. Even people in my own workplace are surprised by how “hard” I’m taking it. The reality is these people go home to a partner or family of an evening, I go home to my dogs. That sounds really miserable and antisocial - but I’m an independent person and I’ve bought my own home and set up my own life and I’ve done it all by myself… except for the little pack of supporters who’ve been there through it all. Miller has been through it all.

Miller knew me when I was 18 and living with my grandparents; still a kid and having no idea about being an adult. Miller knew me when I went through my first break up, and she stuck around through the heartache. Miller knew me when I first ventured out into the big wide world; renting a “big girl house” with a friend and having a stable income and working towards my dreams. Miller knew me through my second break up, where I fled the country and went on a journey to “heal myself” and left her (and Henry) with my grandparents. She didn’t mind. She enjoyed the extra snacks. Miller knew me when I bought my first home, alone, and was right there beside me throughout.

She’s known me through my entire adult life. But I’ve known Miller through the day when she first came home… carsick on the passenger’s seat with only petrol station toilet paper to clean it up. I’ve known Miller through her “drug overdose” where she decided to snack on a pack of ibuprofen (again, with Henry). I’ve known Miller through horrific and uncontrollable ear infections. Where I thought the kindest thing was to let her go. Where I saw her in chronic, severe pain and several ear surgeries and procedures. I’ve known miller through her, um, “back end” problems, and having to remove stitches from her actual butthole. I’ve known Miller through her mellow years, where her only crimes are barking at a yellow lab on the beach or greeting our guests with a loud and persistent voice.

Today someone came to my house and there was no loud voice to greet them. She’s in a vet clinic cage, yellow as a highlighter, trying her hardest to stay alive. She’s 8 years old and has lived a life rich with joy and adventure, but my god I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. She’s not grey, she’s not creaky, she’s still got so much life in her. So many more rivers to swim in and songs to dance to and yellow labs to bark at. Every waking moment is spent agonising over my special little blue dog.

We don’t see leptospirosis where I am located. It’s very rare, and my vets have little experience with it. Today we contacted other hospitals in places were it is more prevalent so we can get a better idea of what we’re dealing with. It can take 7-14 days to see a turnaround. Miller is on day 4. I don’t know how I will afford 14 days of intensive care. I don’t even know how to think about money right now. I don’t know when the right time is to call it; to let her rest, or whether she wants me to keep fighting for her. Every minute is a nightmare and I miss my best girl.

#when moby shoves his nose in the food bin he looks like miller #when trickle does her little pinned ears waggy butt appeasement dance she looks like miller #when someone comes stomping up the steps I can hear miller’s voice #except none of those are miller #and there’s a very real chance they never will be again #she may never come home #and I’ll be stuck reeling from these tiny fractions of time where I think it’s her #my very best friend #my loyal sidekick #who hates everyone in this world but me #and has always driven me absolutely nuts #please don’t take her away just yet #please let her come home for a little longer