Trading in Tango

In April, sometime between the appointment with my family practitioner and the actual OBGYN, my dog Tango got a UTI of some sort. She seemed to get one every two or three months, and they were always treated with antibiotics and went away. So I collected a sample of her red-tinged urine and took it in.

Tango had been in my life since I was twelve years old and my mom brought her as a puppy into the house. She moved from Texas to Dubuque with us in 2003, and when my parents moved in the summer of 2012 to southern Nevada they left her with me, given that she was getting quite old and arthritic and hated being in the car. They feared she may fall into the pool and not make it out, and knew that in general she would be happier in a house out in the country, which is where I live with my husband. So we had adopted Tango into our family, and she and Sadie the pug tolerated each other pretty well. K loved her, too, even though he rarely admitted it.

This was the third UTI she had and the doctor wanted me to bring her in for some blood tests. So a few days after it was confirmed she had a UTI and had been put on antibiotics, I brought her in, shivering and shedding, to get a blood draw.

Results came back a few days later as kidney disease -- and Tango was in stage three kidney failure. I felt down about it but not overly surprised. Tango did not show immediate signs of slowing down, either. She still wriggled around on her back when she wanted to play and romped around the house stiffly when I played with her. She was still herself, so aside from switching her to all distilled water and a homemade renal diet that she rather despised, I didn't make many changes for her. Even with her diet I eventually became pretty lenient -- she may as well enjoy her food while she was around.

 Tango, waiting for K to come home one night.

Both dogs insisted on hanging out in the bathroom in the mornings with us. Tango always followed K into the bathroom as soon as he got up and sat near him while he got ready for the day.

I frequently came home to find Tango asleep like this.

Tango, seemingly asking me if I'm serious about wanting her to eat the entire homemade renal dish I put in front of her. (And Sadie silently offering to consume all of it within five seconds.)

My husband and I obeyed the OBGYN's orders regarding the Clomid and the two week wait for testing began.

It was during this time that Tango began to slow down. It was harder to wake her up from naps when I came home, and she began eating and drinking less water. I went entirely back to her old food that she preferred in hopes she would eat more.

May came, and Mother's Day weekend -- the weekend I would start testing -- approached. I had set a tentative schedule in mid May to have Tango euthanized because I knew she wasn't happy anymore.

Friday, May 10 was the first day I felt comfortable testing. That second pink line was barely visible, and I questioned whether I was seeing things, but it was there.

That night, I knew Tango was in bad shape. She could barely walk, absolutely refused to eat or drink, and was throwing up bile. She trembled miserably and looked terribly sad. I wondered if she would even make it through the night, and called my mom in tears. We agreed to take her into the vet the next morning to let her go. I tucked Tango into her bed in the kitchen and camped out next to her while I called the vet to let him know I needed to do it tomorrow.

Everyone camped out on the floor with Tango that night.

She was clearly miserable and sat like this for most of the night. I stroked her head gently and talked to her quietly. Neither of us slept much.

I don't remember if I tested the next morning. We got up early and took her into the vet, carrying her on her bed stretcher-style -- as she could not walk -- to say goodbye.

Even Sadie knew Tango was sick.

After it was all over, we wrapped Tango up in her blanket, brought her back home and buried her in the backyard.

It was such a hard day, one of the hardest days in my life. Tango was the first dog I was fully responsible for regarding her health care decisions, diet, and other aspects. It was terrible to say goodbye, but it was the right thing to do.

It was hard to be excited that I might be pregnant. Even with a more definite positive pregnancy test on Mother's Day, I had a hard time pushing aside my sadness to make room for excitement. That would come later.

Looking back, I count that weekend as one of God's ultimate tender mercies. The weekend He invited my baby Tango back home was the same weekend I got the promise that, soon, I would be able to have another baby -- my very own baby!