If you've been following my blog, or have happened to read any of the many posts that Fritz was included in you know how much we loved him. And can easily imagine how heart-broken we are. I have had a mini schnauzer in my heart and by my side for over 30 years. Although, until Fritz, we didn't get to experience the full benefit or the consequences of the breed. Unfortunately, while miniature schnauzers are incredibly wonderful pets, great with kids, fierce defenders, and full of energy, they are also prone to an abundance of health related issues.
Fritz was just the sweetest, most lovable, most devoted companion we have ever had. And of course, like all schnauzers, he was very vocal! That's what made him so 'human' in his ability to communicate and express what he wanted. We were told many times that he a was people dog - not a doggy dog, meaning he truly preferred people to other dogs. He almost always traveled with us on vacations, local outings, etc. He loved to ride in the car, and he loved hotel rooms! He was fabulous with kids. He loved walks, the park and mostly, he loved to chase his tennis ball.
Fritz remained a real trooper, patient and cooperative through all of the trying times he was forced to experience. Through all of the surgeries, include the removal of an abdominal mass in May, 2013 and then his cataract surgery in July, 2013. And although he returned home a blind doggy, and required several eye drops, several times a day, he did regain most of his sight by late September, and was only mildly disgruntle about the eye drops.
When he was diagnosed with diabetes in February, 2013 DH and I were so frightened but again, true to form, he tolerated his twice a day insulin injections like a big boy. He quickly adjusted to the change in diet and feeding schedule. Over the past year, with each poking and prodding, ultrasound, seemingly endless blood panels, and treatments, he always bounced back and retained his sweet disposition.
He began having seizures in October, 2012 and while they were infrequent and mostly mild over the next year, they did take their toll on his nervous system. As the seizures became more frequent and more severe, Fritz was not as able to bounce back, and slowly we had to stand by and watch his health further decline.
Then about 3 weeks before Christmas, 2013 he had a major seizure that left him forever changed. His disposition began to change. He became more aggressive, although not mean, just not very tolerant at being touched. Which was difficult because he had already lost so much muscle mass that his hind legs were really weak and he had to be carried much of the time. And with each seizure it became even more difficult for him to get around. He was just beginning to get around a little better on his own again when the next seizure happened on New Year's day. Between New Year's day and the final seizure on the 4th, he could barely walk on his own and had to be carried up and down the stairs. He struggled to stand long enough to go pee or to poop. He didn't want to eat, and he began drinking so much water.
It was during the final seizure that afternoon that DH and I both looked at the clock, then at each other - was the vet's office still open? Was it finally time? Well, the vet was in later than normal and agreed to wait.
My poor sweet, little boy was nearly lifeless when I picked him up and we drove him to the vet's office. We held him, kissed him, told him how sorry we were that we couldn't make it better, and we put him down.
We wonder now if we should have had an MRI done to check for a brain tumor. Although, I'm not sure what we could have done about it. And I'm not sure what we would have done other than try to make him as comfortable as possible, love him completely, and wish things could have been different.
For now we just have to assume that based on the symptoms and the science that that is what finally happened, and had probably been happening since the seizures began. We painfully accept that we did everything we could to give him a good life, a good home, and that some things are just out of one's control.
We miss him so much and we feel so lost. The house seems so empty and quiet. We pick up his ashes next week and we learn to live without him.
Gerry
