No breaks, looks like · 3:23pm May 22nd, 2019

Last Saturday, I attended a memorial for GreyGuardPony. It was good. I don't particularly like the circumstances that led to it, and honestly I would have preferred it not been necessary at all, but for me and my state of mind, it was good.

Sunday, the day I got back home, my dog Molly started to have breathing difficulty after a coughing fit. Because it was Sunday, the emergency vet was the only option. They put her on oxygen and her condition improved, chest X-rays didn't show any abnormalities, and it was suspected to be a collapsed trachea, which sometimes happens in small dogs when they get older and the cartilage weakens. She was given a cough suppressant and sent home (this was our decision vs. keeping her in for observation).

She seemed fine all day Monday, with her normal level of energy and no observable problems.

Tuesday morning was a different story, and she was lethargic and uninterested in eating or drinking. We called the vet and were able to get her in and seen promptly. Her doctor opted to put her on oxygen while performing the intake exam since she was having difficulty breathing again. About a minute later she comes back and tells us that she needs to go to the emergency hospital; she needed equipment that they didn't have at the office. We were checked out, paid up and on the road in about 30 seconds. On the 15 minute drive to the emergency vet, Molly was clearly distressed and tried to worm out of my grasp a couple times; looking back, I think she was trying to get to my wife (who was driving). About a minute into the drive when we'd just gotten onto the freeway, she gave a deep sigh, put her face into the crook of my arm and went still. My wife — who had been glancing over probably more than she should have been — asked if she was gone. "I don't feel a heartbeat," I said. "Keep driving."

Molly was a small dog; small enough that I could get my hand completely around her rib cage. I did exactly that and started giving her chest compressions, and almost immediately her heart started again. She moved on her own, and made sounds, however little she did both. I brought my dog back to life. "She's moving," I said. "Keep driving."

I had stopped giving her chest compressions because I didn't want to cause arrhythmia, and within a minute her heart had stopped again, so I resumed chest compressions and didn't stop this time; my hand was burning by the time we got to the hospital. Her heart started again, but was much weaker than before and didn't beat on its own for long, so I kept giving her chest compressions. I don't think it had occurred to me to try rescue breathing, and even if it did, that wasn't something I knew how to do on a dog, but I could keep the blood moving while it still had oxygen in it.

When we got to the hospital, I jumped out took off, and everybody inside reacted in a completely appropriate manner when they see a man charging at the front door of an emergency vet carrying a bundle in his arms; one of the other owners inside cottoned on when he saw one of the vet techs suddenly moving with purpose, and held the door open. That same vet tech was at the door with arms out when I ran in. "No heartbeat," I said. She asked if they should start CPR, and I said yes. She turned and left for the back while one of the other techs got us checked in.

There wasn't anything to do. More compressions, oxygen, adrenaline and atropine were all given; she was gone.

I'm ok. I suspect that part of this is to do with the fact that when Death came for Molly, my reaction was to punch him in the face, grab her and take off down the road. It's everything I could have possibly done, so I'm ok.

But I feel a profound sadness.

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