On Friday, February 15, my family and I lost our beloved, ten-year old English mastiff, Rose.
Rose loved Christmas, snow, presents, rawhide bones, stuffed toys, snacks, fragrant flowers, her mom's cooking, and going for a ride in the van.
She was the most beautiful dog I've ever seen. At over 200 pounds, she was also the biggest.
She was born with a crippled leg and had to have surgery on it and both elbows when she was a puppy. Arthritis showed up on her hip x-rays before she was a year old. No one thought she'd live long, but she did better than expected and lived ten-years, which is old for a mastiff. She had a happy and fulfilling life despite her handicaps.
At the end, she had severe hip dysplasia, arthritis, and spondylolysis. She couldn't walk without us supporting her rear with a harness.
On February 8, our vet injected a regenerative substance called "ACell" into her hip joints. We hoped it would improve her quality of life and give her a little more time. It seemed to be helping a little, but we didn't have the opportunity to find out how successful it would have been.
Late on February 14, she became violently ill, vomiting and heaving all night long.
I sat with her all night, holding her big paw, petting her, and telling her how much I loved her. I promised her that I would be there for her through this, and I was with her to the end.
We got her to the vet's office as soon as it opened. Other than elevated liver enzymes, her blood, urine, and fecal tests were normal so he decided to x-ray her. We feared that she may have swallowed something. While she was in the x-ray room, my husband and I waited in the exam room. A short while later, the vet called for us to come back at once. He said that they'd had to stop the x-rays, because she, "wasn't doing well."
She was lying on the x-ray table. I took one look at her and knew she was close to death. She appeared so frail and weak that it seemed as if part of her spirit had already left.
We moved her into the operating room—it took several people to move her as she was so big. The vet tried to revive her with oxygen.
As we stood there waiting, watching, he said the x-rays were inconclusive, but her diaphragm looked abnormal. He believed that it was weak, which was why she could no longer breathe well. This was due to her age, size, and the vomiting. He also thought it possible that she had a mass in her liver that was pressing against her abdominal organs, possibly cutting off the blood supply and causing torsion.
The only option would have been major surgery, which, given her age, condition, and other medical problems, wasn't feasible. We knew it was time to let her go and decided to euthanize her to relieve her suffering.
We held her and told her we loved her as the vet injected the solution into an artery in her leg. She looked up at us once to make sure we were there, then she slipped into a peaceful sleep.
We loved her. She was like a daughter to us, and she's greatly missed.
Rose loved Christmas, snow, presents, rawhide bones, stuffed toys, snacks, fragrant flowers, her mom's cooking, and going for a ride in the van.
She was the most beautiful dog I've ever seen. At over 200 pounds, she was also the biggest.
She was born with a crippled leg and had to have surgery on it and both elbows when she was a puppy. Arthritis showed up on her hip x-rays before she was a year old. No one thought she'd live long, but she did better than expected and lived ten-years, which is old for a mastiff. She had a happy and fulfilling life despite her handicaps.
At the end, she had severe hip dysplasia, arthritis, and spondylolysis. She couldn't walk without us supporting her rear with a harness.
On February 8, our vet injected a regenerative substance called "ACell" into her hip joints. We hoped it would improve her quality of life and give her a little more time. It seemed to be helping a little, but we didn't have the opportunity to find out how successful it would have been.
Late on February 14, she became violently ill, vomiting and heaving all night long.
I sat with her all night, holding her big paw, petting her, and telling her how much I loved her. I promised her that I would be there for her through this, and I was with her to the end.
We got her to the vet's office as soon as it opened. Other than elevated liver enzymes, her blood, urine, and fecal tests were normal so he decided to x-ray her. We feared that she may have swallowed something. While she was in the x-ray room, my husband and I waited in the exam room. A short while later, the vet called for us to come back at once. He said that they'd had to stop the x-rays, because she, "wasn't doing well."
She was lying on the x-ray table. I took one look at her and knew she was close to death. She appeared so frail and weak that it seemed as if part of her spirit had already left.
We moved her into the operating room—it took several people to move her as she was so big. The vet tried to revive her with oxygen.
As we stood there waiting, watching, he said the x-rays were inconclusive, but her diaphragm looked abnormal. He believed that it was weak, which was why she could no longer breathe well. This was due to her age, size, and the vomiting. He also thought it possible that she had a mass in her liver that was pressing against her abdominal organs, possibly cutting off the blood supply and causing torsion.
The only option would have been major surgery, which, given her age, condition, and other medical problems, wasn't feasible. We knew it was time to let her go and decided to euthanize her to relieve her suffering.
We held her and told her we loved her as the vet injected the solution into an artery in her leg. She looked up at us once to make sure we were there, then she slipped into a peaceful sleep.
We loved her. She was like a daughter to us, and she's greatly missed.
On Friday, February 15, my family and I lost our beloved, ten-year old English mastiff, Rose.
Rose loved Christmas, snow, presents, rawhide bones, stuffed toys, snacks, fragrant flowers, her mom's cooking, and going for a ride in the van.
She was the most beautiful dog I've ever seen. At over 200 pounds, she was also the biggest.
She was born with a crippled leg and had to have surgery on it and both elbows when she was a puppy. Arthritis showed up on her hip x-rays before she was a year old. No one thought she'd live long, but she did better than expected and lived ten-years, which is old for a mastiff. She had a happy and fulfilling life despite her handicaps.
At the end, she had severe hip dysplasia, arthritis, and spondylolysis. She couldn't walk without us supporting her rear with a harness.
On February 8, our vet injected a regenerative substance called "ACell" into her hip joints. We hoped it would improve her quality of life and give her a little more time. It seemed to be helping a little, but we didn't have the opportunity to find out how successful it would have been.
Late on February 14, she became violently ill, vomiting and heaving all night long.
I sat with her all night, holding her big paw, petting her, and telling her how much I loved her. I promised her that I would be there for her through this, and I was with her to the end.
We got her to the vet's office as soon as it opened. Other than elevated liver enzymes, her blood, urine, and fecal tests were normal so he decided to x-ray her. We feared that she may have swallowed something. While she was in the x-ray room, my husband and I waited in the exam room. A short while later, the vet called for us to come back at once. He said that they'd had to stop the x-rays, because she, "wasn't doing well."
She was lying on the x-ray table. I took one look at her and knew she was close to death. She appeared so frail and weak that it seemed as if part of her spirit had already left.
We moved her into the operating room—it took several people to move her as she was so big. The vet tried to revive her with oxygen.
As we stood there waiting, watching, he said the x-rays were inconclusive, but her diaphragm looked abnormal. He believed that it was weak, which was why she could no longer breathe well. This was due to her age, size, and the vomiting. He also thought it possible that she had a mass in her liver that was pressing against her abdominal organs, possibly cutting off the blood supply and causing torsion.
The only option would have been major surgery, which, given her age, condition, and other medical problems, wasn't feasible. We knew it was time to let her go and decided to euthanize her to relieve her suffering.
We held her and told her we loved her as the vet injected the solution into an artery in her leg. She looked up at us once to make sure we were there, then she slipped into a peaceful sleep.
We loved her. She was like a daughter to us, and she's greatly missed.
Rose loved Christmas, snow, presents, rawhide bones, stuffed toys, snacks, fragrant flowers, her mom's cooking, and going for a ride in the van.
She was the most beautiful dog I've ever seen. At over 200 pounds, she was also the biggest.
She was born with a crippled leg and had to have surgery on it and both elbows when she was a puppy. Arthritis showed up on her hip x-rays before she was a year old. No one thought she'd live long, but she did better than expected and lived ten-years, which is old for a mastiff. She had a happy and fulfilling life despite her handicaps.
At the end, she had severe hip dysplasia, arthritis, and spondylolysis. She couldn't walk without us supporting her rear with a harness.
On February 8, our vet injected a regenerative substance called "ACell" into her hip joints. We hoped it would improve her quality of life and give her a little more time. It seemed to be helping a little, but we didn't have the opportunity to find out how successful it would have been.
Late on February 14, she became violently ill, vomiting and heaving all night long.
I sat with her all night, holding her big paw, petting her, and telling her how much I loved her. I promised her that I would be there for her through this, and I was with her to the end.
We got her to the vet's office as soon as it opened. Other than elevated liver enzymes, her blood, urine, and fecal tests were normal so he decided to x-ray her. We feared that she may have swallowed something. While she was in the x-ray room, my husband and I waited in the exam room. A short while later, the vet called for us to come back at once. He said that they'd had to stop the x-rays, because she, "wasn't doing well."
She was lying on the x-ray table. I took one look at her and knew she was close to death. She appeared so frail and weak that it seemed as if part of her spirit had already left.
We moved her into the operating room—it took several people to move her as she was so big. The vet tried to revive her with oxygen.
As we stood there waiting, watching, he said the x-rays were inconclusive, but her diaphragm looked abnormal. He believed that it was weak, which was why she could no longer breathe well. This was due to her age, size, and the vomiting. He also thought it possible that she had a mass in her liver that was pressing against her abdominal organs, possibly cutting off the blood supply and causing torsion.
The only option would have been major surgery, which, given her age, condition, and other medical problems, wasn't feasible. We knew it was time to let her go and decided to euthanize her to relieve her suffering.
We held her and told her we loved her as the vet injected the solution into an artery in her leg. She looked up at us once to make sure we were there, then she slipped into a peaceful sleep.
We loved her. She was like a daughter to us, and she's greatly missed.
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