Monday evening, Chester looked to be hours from death It came on suddenly–wouldn’t eat, couldn’t stand up, twitched spastically, couldn’t focus, couldn’t stop panting. We gathered round him on the floor and said goodbyes, afraid he wouldn’t wake up in the morning. The girls slept next to him in our room and I lay awake wondering what we would do with his body if he died hours before the vet opened. He hung on through the night, but didn’t look much better Tuesday, and I called the vet to have him checked and–surely–euthanized.
The vet was out on Tuesday, though, and the soonest they could see him was Wednesday night. They asked if I thought he could wait that long and I said I supposed so, he didn’t seem to be able to tell night from day anyway, what would it matter, but again I fretted all night about what to do with his corpse if he died in his sleep.
Wednesday morning, what was to be his last day, I woke up early and came into the kitchen. I made coffee and sat down to work. Minutes later I heard Chester’s claws clicking on the floor, and I turned to see him trotting into the room as he has a thousand times before. He pawed at his food bowl indignantly. He whined for his bed, which I brought to him. It was as though the previous two days had never happened. When the vet opened I called them to say I didn’t think we’d be needing the euthanist after all, and oddly I worried they’d think I’d lost my nerve. But they know this dingbat well enough to know that he’s one resilient beast. He’s back as good as he was last week, demanding, ornery, contrary as hell, here to stay, at least a little longer. #dog #chestermcfester #mrwiggles #pigglesmcwiggles #whattheshitchester
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