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Post by Phalon on Oct 7, 2013 6:21:03 GMT -6
Thanks, Joxie. This past weekend, all of the things you suggested crossed my mind. I even told LX that he may have "waited" for her to come home before letting go. Dad, I believe, waited for Mom to get to the hospital; she came into the room, he looked up, said her name, then died. I don't know if it's actually possible for an animal...or even a human, for that matter...to hold off death in that manner, but it gives comfort, I think, to believe so.
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Post by Mini Mia on Oct 7, 2013 17:34:22 GMT -6
I don't know if it's possible either. I do know of a lot of cases where it seemed to be so. Shouldn't those odds prove it is possible? I even know of cases where someone 'waited' until after a birthday, anniversary, or happy event to not ruin the day ... or even until a loved one wasn't present, knowing it would be too hard for them to be there.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 8, 2013 3:58:41 GMT -6
I believe almost anything seems possible when it involves a strong will.
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Post by stepper on Oct 12, 2013 22:46:30 GMT -6
Phalon: I'm very sorry to hear about Dusty, but I don't see anything in what you wrote that would have caught my attention that something was amiss. You look for them to be off their food, or not drinking as much water as usual, or an obvious change in behavior like hiding, but absent some obvious physical problem there just doesn't seem to be an explanation - you may never know what happened.
I've seen that many times - especially in those with a strong will - they refuse to give up until some event occurs which makes it 'okay'. I remember when I was younger that there was an accident where a car was crushed by an eighteen wheeler. The father was thrown from the vehicle but his daughter was still in what was left of their car. Witnesses told the police that the father got up, walked to the car, wrenched the mangled door from the passenger side, and then gently carried his daughter to the side and lay her down. Then he laid down beside her. Dead. The ME said the witnesses had to be mistaken because every bone in the fathers body was broken - some in multiple places - and it was physically impossible for him to have crawled to his daughter, let alone jerk open the car door. I believe the ME was wrong. The spirit in people and animals gives us the ability, sometimes, to do the seemingly impossible. What ever happened to Dusty, he found comfort in being near you during his last days and that's a nice way to remember him.
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Post by Siren on Oct 14, 2013 17:35:35 GMT -6
Well said, Step. My sympathy, Gams.
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Post by Phalon on Jan 18, 2015 9:47:13 GMT -6
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Jan 18, 2015 9:55:41 GMT -6
Totally what I've been saying all along. They are like any other dog. You make them neurotic with bad training and bad examples and they'll bite your face off. Damn Chihuahuas.
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Post by Phalon on Jan 18, 2015 9:59:39 GMT -6
I have to say I've never met a chihuahua that I've liked - every one that I've come in contact with is like a snarly, loud rat. 'Course, I don't generally care for small dogs as a whole.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Jan 18, 2015 10:00:45 GMT -6
In my experiance you are more likely to get bit by a dog under 5 pounds than a large one.
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Post by scamp on Feb 3, 2015 6:37:00 GMT -6
While I was staying at the free housing provided by the American Cancer Society during radiation (I live more than 50 miles from my cancer center) with 100 complete strangers drawn together only by the fact that one out of every two had cancer which made it a very surreal experience, one of my once tossed out into the streets, now known as one of those who takeover my electric blanket cats got really, really sick. First diagnosis was lymphoma. Dodged that one. I could only come home on the weekends so my vet kept him and called me daily to reassure me that he would find out what was wrong. Meanwhile, my radiation oncologist altered my schedule so I could leave early on Friday and come back late on Monday. The second week, my vet made a final diagnosis of hepatitis and tried to prepare me for the worst. I picked up my boy cat and some antibiotics. Antibiotics aren't supposed to cure hepatitis. But it did -- in 10 days. Boy cat had lost over 4 lbs and was walking on his elbows. Now, 3 months later, he's entirely back to normal, a masterful jumper and a gourmet -- what else can you call a cat who likes fruitcake? Okay, yes, weird works as well. My vet charged me a mere $400 for two weeks of boarding, numerous blood workups, a consult with a cat oncologist, and all his meds. At my cancer center, my radiation techs, unbeknownst to me, had volunteered to come in early on Fridays and to stay late on Mondays on their own time. Now before everyone gets too overwhelmed by how good people and cats are, I would point out that Boy cat kept me up most of the night by deciding to vigorously groom MY hair every time I dozed off. This was randomly annoying, oops, that's a different thread. I hope this is good therapy for Scrappy -- it was for me.
scamp
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Post by Phalon on Feb 3, 2015 10:23:02 GMT -6
That's a great story, Scamp. So glad everything worked out for both you and your cat. Though you said not to get overwhelmed, it is does show how dedicated and caring those in healthcare - of both people and animals - can be.
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Post by Mini Mia on Feb 3, 2015 18:12:56 GMT -6
It's always nice to hear heartwarming stories. So glad all has turned out so well. Hope it continues to do so.
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Post by stepper on Feb 5, 2015 19:28:45 GMT -6
That happened to me a couple times and I agree there's no sleeping when a cat decides you need to be groomed. I'm glad your kitty recovered and is doing so well Scamp. They are wonderful companions - although I had a habit of referring to mine as my kids.
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