Wyatt died Monday, 7 January.  I took him back to the vet that day because
the antiobiotics weren't helping and I knew there was something else
wrong.  His breathing was severely labored and he was dehydrated AGAIN in
spite of the Sub Q fluids and me waking him every 45 minutes to drink.  He
was so weak that he couldn't stand and was making little yelping sounds
when he moved and breathed.  I went in to the vet and she looked at him
and said she it was time for him to go.  She thought he was through trying
to live.  I started crying but I knew she was right.  At the vet's office
he peed on himself cause he was unable to walk.  His urine was bright,
bright red and she felt maybe he had a kidney problem.  I agree with that.
He was also severely anemic.  I talked to him and held him in my arms for
ten minutes.  Kissed him on his little dry cracked nose and told him I was
sorry that I couldn't help him anymore and then I signed the euthanization
papers.  I handed him to the Vet tech and went to call my husband.  I
KNOW I'm supposed to hold him while they give him the shot, but I was so
hysterical I was upsetting him.  Wyatt was covered with kisses by my vet
and the tech every time we went to the vet's office.  I felt comfortable
having Liz hold him, he knew her.  Not ONE minute after she closed the
door of the exam room, he passed on his own.  Like he knew I was letting
him go and it was okay to leave me now.
 
Sandee, tell him I love him very, very much and that I'm sorry Mommy
couldn't fix him.  Please help him make friends and please tell him I
can't wait to see him again.
 
This is the saddest day of my life.  This is my first rescue that didn't
make it.  It feels horrible and I feel like I failed him.  I took him
from that rat hole pet store only to not be able to save him in the end.
 
For those of you that remember, I was out there begging for donations to
help get him, Belle Starr and Billy the Kid out of a fly infested, poopy,
smelly nasty cage in a pet shop with no air-conditioning in the dead of
summer.  I raised almost enough to get them out and made up the difference
myself.  Wyatt was very, very special.  He had been beaten by his former
owners and was very, very afraid of me.  He learned to love me and I want
to thank you all, every single one of you that donated or only said
prayers for us for giving me the time I had with Wyatt.  The last few
months of his life were the best he'd ever known.  He even had his first
Christmas complete with many, many presents from generous Santa's all
over the country.  Thank you so, so much.
[Posted in FML issue 3659]