Ashley Kontnier
Our house is a zoo … or at least that’s what my son used to tell everyone when he was around 4 years old.
At the time, we had two dogs, a cat, a tortoise, a leopard gecko and, for less than a month, a fish.
Then, the fish died.
“Our house used to be a zoo,” he would say, “but then, the fish died, so it’s not a zoo anymore.”
So, for the last few years, our home has belonged to my husband, my son, myself and five animals.
The dogs — Marky and Melissa — are the oldest of the gang, at 14 and 11 years old, respectively. Followed by the tortoise, the gecko and last, but certainly not least, the cat.
While I love them with all of my heart, I will be the first one to tell you that the dogs are jerks. Marky’s favorite pastime, which he has so lovingly taught Melissa, is to bark at everything, from the doorbell to someone putting a cup down on the counter a little too hard. Melissa, on the other hand, is a big ‘ole scaredy cat. She can’t be left alone because she will dig at the carpet or chew up shoes — especially flip flops — from anxiety. They are certainly two peas in a pod, the protector and the nervous nelly.
They are not totally naughty, though. Melissa is the most fluffy, loving dog I have ever met. She alerts to my husband having seizures and will stay by his side until he is safe. Marky loves a good snuggle on the couch and, despite the fact that he used to be very annoyed at the unpredictable movements of our son, he has become the one who watches over him most.
For these reasons and so many more, it was alarming when we found out last year that Marky had some sort of mass in his liver.
We didn’t know what it was and it was going to cost several thousand dollars to find out. As much as we love him, that price tag was just not in the cards for us. With the blessing of our longtime veterinarian, we agreed to a wait and watch approach — follow up testing in six months to check progression and watch him closely for any signs of pain or problem.
Well, as life has a way of doing, it got chaotic. Some other, more urgent medical needs came up and that six month recheck timeline quickly flew by.
When we took Marky in for his annual checkup in January, the bloodwork came back with concerning changes and we knew we needed to move fast.
Before we had time to do anything, the gastrointestinal problems started and he was having accidents in the house multiple times a day. We tried to manage with all the tips and tricks we have learned over the years of owning dogs, to no avail. As a family, we were worn out and didn’t know what to do.
At this point, we went back in for that follow up testing, which pretty quickly confirmed our worst fears. The mass had more than doubled in size and they highly suspected it was cancerous.
Knowing that he is 14 years old and surgery would be dangerous, complicated and cost multiple thousands of dollars, that option was taken off the table. We decided that stopping the G.I. upset and keeping him comfortable as long as possible would be our goals.
We talked to our son about what the plan was moving forward and explained that, when Marky was no longer comfortable, we would euthanize him. We cried together and answered all of the questions he had. It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do as a parent thus far.
After about 10 days of sickness, the dog finally turned a corner and we all breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that we will have a few more weeks or months with him.
Two days later, I came home from work and cooked dinner. We ate as a family and, as I was cleaning up, I checked in on the gecko, who we have had for 13-plus years. He was dead.
After a brief moment of indecision, we gathered in the backyard as a family, dug a hole and laid Drake to rest, complete with a paper name plate made by an 8-year-old boy that is learning a lot about life and death this week.
I guess we all are.
Kontnier is the publisher of the Hays Free Press/News-Dispatch. She can be reached at [email protected].
