Popcorn, Pugs & Peonies: January 2018

A note before you begin: I started writing this on Christmas Eve, when everything happened. As you can imagine, it was painful to finish at the time. I tucked it away until I could write it the way I wanted to.

5/23/07- 12/24/17

This is a post that I knew I would one day have to write. However, I didn’t think that one day would be on Christmas Eve. Our beloved American bulldog Meatball crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning, and it was one of the hardest and surest decisions my husband and I have had to make as a family. Our hearts are shattered into a thousand tiny pieces that I can’t even begin to make sense of right now. I wanted to get some thoughts out about the amazing boy he was.

We rescued Meatball from a Craig’s List ad in January 2008. He was a lively nine month old puppy chained up in a garage in San Jose, CA. He had quickly outgrown his “family” who had other priorities, none of which included exercising an energetic 100 lb dog. My husband had been researching the breed and understood what parenting an American bulldog would mean. We took a drive out to go meet him, and it was love at first sight.

My husband and myself with our first pug Turner and Meatball. This was taken in Lake Tahoe the day after our wedding.

We returned to San Jose to pick him up and bring him home a few days later. We took him to the vet for his checkup. An assistant commented that he was quite a meat head, all muscle and energy. Something clicked, and we knew his name had to be Meatball. My husband and I were living in an apartment, but in the process of buying our first home with a yard. We moved him into our cramped accommodations with our first pug Turner, thinking it was a very temporary situation. Of course, it wasn’t.

Meatball loving his yard.

If you remember back to 2008, the real estate market bubble burst. Home prices in the Bay Area were falling, and we were losing the homes were were bidding on as quickly as we were finding them. At one point, when the four of us were living in our tiny apartment and getting up at the crack of dawn to take our new puppy for hour long walks to burn off his immense energy, we wondered if we had made a mistake. The flu swept through our home, making our morning routine an unpleasant obligation. We considered giving him back. We considered rehoming him. Somehow, we pushed through. By the end of March, we had closed on a new home with a yard.

The day Petunia met Meatball.

We quickly became a family. Pictures of Meatball were used as table markers in our wedding reception. Our pug Turner passed away, and we brought home Petunia and Harriet. Our new dog pack was complete. We took vacations to the family home in Lake Tahoe. We explored the dog park. He was our best friend and protector. We had amazing adventures. Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

Our complete dog pack.

We discovered Meatball’s first mast cell tumors in the summer of 2015, right before we moved across the county. He had four removed and quickly recovered. A few days later we threw everyone in the back of our SUV and drove to Atlanta. We discovered more tumors in December 2016. He had a second surgery to remove three additional tumors and a much slower recovery. He didn’t bounce back this time. We decided not to put him through more surgeries, but were optimistic about the future.

A picture of Meatball that was used as a table marker for our wedding reception.

We monitored him on a consistent basis, checking his body for any obvious lumps and bumps. We had an internal scan done to check for any nodules on his organs. We were clear. He was a ten year old American Bulldog (an old man by big dog standards), but spry like a puppy. He never slowed down. Never showed any signs of getting old. We were grateful for every day.

Does anybody want a treat?

Wednesday December 20th was a day like any other. My husband was cleaning up after dinner, and all of a sudden he called me into the kitchen. Meatball was lying on the floor, breathing heavily. He seemed to be semi-conscious at best, and clearly something was wrong. After about fifteen minutes he seemed to come out of it, and we moved him into the living room. He didn't spring up. He didn't wag his tail. He was sick. We made the decision to rush him to the emergency vet.

Wednesday night, when Meatball fell ill.

This was a place we had been before. Meatball had his second mast cell removal done here. These people were the experts. If anyone could fix this situation, it was them. Within a half an hour we had a diagnosis. He had a tumor in his spleen that was bleeding into his stomach and causing him pain. Spleens could be removed, and although the prognosis wasn't terrific, his fight wasn't over. He had emergency surgery the next morning and a day later we were able to take our boy home. We were waiting for the results of the biopsy, but his prognosis was 6-9 months at best. We were just happy to get to spoil him in his remaining months. We just wanted him back home.

The car ride back home, after his spleen removal surgery.

He came home on Friday the 22nd. He was clearly in pain from his surgery, but seemed to be recovering. He wagged his tail. He barked. He started following us around. Best of all, he ate like a champion. Our boy was back!

Saturday night, when Meatball was recovering, and Petunia was his nurse.

On Sunday morning (Christmas Eve) he got up and walked down stairs. He looked at his breakfast and turned away from it. He wanted to lie down. His gums were pale white. His breathing became labored. We knew this was very bad. He couldn't walk to the car this time, so we carried him. I sat in the back to keep him company while my husband drove. If anything happened on the way there, I didn't want him to be alone.

The emergency vet brought out a stretcher and rushed him into critical care. We waited, hoping that whatever it was could be fixed. The vet came to talk to us. It was most likely a blood clot in his lungs. It couldn't be dissolved. He was trying to pass over, but struggling to stay alive to see us one more time. We knew we had to let him go.

Everything that happened next, happened quickly. We said our tearful goodbyes and told him what a good boy he was. He sat up and wagged when he saw us. It was like a punch in the heart. We stayed with him, attempting to comfort him to the very end. And then it was over.

We left in a daze.

The past week has been hard. We have been so very sad. We lost a member of the family and nothing can ever replace him. Each day has gotten a little less difficult. It helps to talk about him and to remember the beautiful, full life he had.