Ray of Light

Tonight, we lost a piece of our family. The last couple of days our oldest dog, Conner, who would have turned 8 this month, was acting slow. He would stand and just stare off, or hardly move. He has had issues with his intestines in the past, nothing life threatening, just messy. We were waiting for the familiar signs to develop but today THIS was different. He was crashing. Struggling to just stand, and then struggling to breathe. I know enough to know the signs of dehydration. Which began to show. We have a sweet vet. I was texting back and forth with him during a movie (on a Sunday, on Mother's Day). I am listing all the drugs from him I have on hand. He is planning on seeing me at 7:00 in the evening. So I wait. I administer spoon fulls of water down his throat for a couple of hours trying to keep the dehydration at bay till we can see the vet. I get up for a brief minute and he rises to his feet to follow me, but collapses. Enough. I am taking him to the emergency clinic. We race there with the boys in tow. My dad arrives to drive them home. The receptionist takes him back. The assistant burst through the doors wanting his history. The vet comes in and tells us they couldn't find the heartbeat at first, but have and it's slow and faint. He's swollen and it's getting worse. He's struggling to breathe. We don't know what's going on. They put him on oxygen. We leave to walk the parking lot while they do xrays and blood work. We cross the parking lot and walk into Pier One. The crazy lady tells us about candles being on sale and last minute Mother's Day gifts. I'm thinking...really lady. Don't you think it's odd that we look distraught and are walking around a Pier One at 6:45 pm on Sunday night? No one else is around and there is an emergency vet clinic across the street. I dismiss her and barely smile. It's not her fault my dog is suffering and literally crashing 100 feet away. We leave Pier One. It's just too weird to be there. We sit in the back of the Tahoe. We pray. We pray for whatever the issue, Lord, make it one that we don't have a choice. See, he has these intestinal bouts and it's about $1,500 every 6 months. He's otherwise healthy but needs medical (and financial) intervention. The vet calls us back and kindly ushers us to a private room. It's not good. It's all over her face. She tells us...'It's one of two things. Rat poison (left by the previous owners). Or a blood clotting disease.' Both situations are DIC. What's that I ask. Death. Is. Coming. And nothing would have stopped either situations. Death was unpreventable. God in the midst of storms answers prayer, so we follow her to see him. He's struggling, he's in a great deal of pain, and he's terrified! His eyes show it. I cup his head and whisper to him. The swelling is blood. He's bleeding out. I look at her and say, 'he's suffering.' She said yes. I tell her it's time. She administers the drug. And I lay with him face to face. He is a dog that was loved. I would not let him die alone. It's been cloudy and overcast all day. Not a ray of light. I called my dad and told him to meet us at the house. As I hung up the phone I looked to the sky. And a ray of light briefly, so brief, BJ in his car behind me didn't see it, broke through the clouds. It was full of God's promise to comfort in times of sorrow, to be present in all things, and to remind me of His love in answering prayers. Tonight our family has shed many tears. Tonight the boys decorated a rock as a head stone. Tonight we remember the good times. Tonight we are sad.