Wednesday, January 28, 2015

January 28, 2015 - Saying Good-Bye

After we left Tebow last Wednesday night, we found out the next morning that he had had an even more violent seizure after we left the vet. 
He was hooked up to a Phenobarbitol drip at the time.
Our vet did not expect him to live through the night. 

When Tebow did live through the night, our vet almost doubled his current Phenobarbitol drip, added a new medicine called Kepra, and then began a round of Doxeycycline.
When we visited Tebow, he was very doped up...but not seizing.

Our vet conferenced with us and shared his concerns.
While he had the seizures stopped for the moment, there was no guarantee they would not start again.
The new seizure medicine, Kepra, must be given in 8 hr. intervals exactly...
and the Doxeycycline was for a possible brain infection.
Tebow also very likely would suffer some brain's difficult to suffer through 7 seizures in a 2-3 hour span without some damage.
And, the words that no one wants to hear:
"He's suffering terribly."

We knew we had a devastating decision to make. 

We took the day Thursday to process what we knew had to be done.
We went back and forth and discussed every possible, minute option.
We realized Friday morning that there was no other option.

"He's suffering terribly."

We made the appointment for later that afternoon.  
3 of us from the shelter were there. 
I had to ask our vet once more if we were doing the right thing.
"Yes," he said.  "I believe you are."

When the vet techs brought Tebow in, he looked like his old self...except he was walking in circles. 
We talked to him, patted his freckled nose, told him how much he was loved, and told him all about the bridge he was getting ready to cross.

The vet techs lifted our buddy Tebow up onto the table and gave him a sedative so that he would not be afraid. 
The sedative started working very quickly...and our tears began streaming.
The medicine that ended Tebow's life went in next. 
There was no struggle, no pain...just a quiet peaceful sleep.
Our hands were on him, and our manager whispered secrets into his ear as he slipped from us. 

It took a couple of days to prepare a gravesite appropriate for our big Tebow, so our staff picked him up on Monday.
They buried him quietly...just them...and Tebow.  Their special time together.

The rest of us visited later. 
After walking around all day as if we were in a fog, with the weight of the world on our shoulders, the perfect family showed up and adopted one of our other special dogs.
We finally smiled at one another.

I'm pretty sure it was a sign...a message from our pal...
"Keep moving forward, human friends...I'm good now."


  1. Tebow will suffer no more. A very touching post, Peppermint Ph.D..

    1. Thanks, took me a few days to muster up the gumption to post it at all...after I was done, I felt like I could move on. Such is life :)