Little Fish, Big River, Bigger City

Day 178: Tears In A Taxi

I called the vet at 10 a.m., well after they'd been open for two hours since I hadn't heard back about AxL's blood tests. An eternity went by until the doctor called back around 1:30.

"So, he has kidney failure...and what the kidneys do is clean the toxins out of the blood so the reason he's not eating is because he feels nauseated and sick to his stomach even though he's hungry." The doctor explained while I listened, dumbfounded.

"What can be done?" I numbly query.

"Well, his numbers are pretty high, about five times normal. You should bring him in right away and we'll try to flush his system out. If anything is still working, that part might start up again, but even so, it's 'about that time.'"

I can't accept what's suddenly happening on a perfect New York day. "So are we talking days, weeks, months?" I fearfully ask.

"Well, a few days, probably not a week, definitely not months."

"Uh.....okay.....I'll bring him in then and I guess we'll just play it by ear." I look down at my best friend of the last twelve years, six months and twenty-six days. He suddenly appears "queasy" now that I know what's been bothering him. No wonder he spit out London Broil even though it came right off the grill. I start to feel queasy, too. This is the end, or close to it...just as I was beginning to think that after his little bump in the road in March, that he might just pull off another two years the way he was ripping through summer without a hitch.

I walk out to 7th Ave and stick my hand up. A cabbie comes by and stops and asks if my dog is sick. As we head to Soho so AxL can see Elle, possibly for the last time, I tell the cabbie the news. He's entirely understanding and polite as he lost a dog of 14 years a few years ago and it still makes him sad to think about it. There was some irony in that the cabbie could've easily passed as an Oakland Raiders Linebacker in the off-season.

At the store, I explain to Elle what's going on and we do our best to try and take what could be the last pictures of the three of us together. Somehow we almost smile. AxL and I pile back in the cab and off we go. Once we arrive at Heart of Chelsea Animal Hospital on the corner of West 18th and 8th Ave, I fork over a $20 for an $11.90 fare and tell the driver how grateful I am for the ride and to keep the change. He turns around, this tough-guy driver of NY Taxi 9C16, and he says, "remember me by these." His eyes are filled with tears that have been streaming down his face for sometime now. I thank him again as I start to lose it.

I go inside the vet and they waste no time taking him back while I wipe my eyes on my sleeve.

For the first time, I don't go with him, I'm not by his side in the exam room, I'm leaving without him next to me. It feels weird and wrong...this little vacancy near my right knee that usually has the world's cutest dog as a permanent tenant.

I'm allowed to come back and see him at 7:30 at night to check in. I arrive right on time and I've brought his freshly washed fleece bed, an unwashed t-shirt that will smell like me and for luck, the Winnie The Pooh stuffed bear which crossed the United States with me during my bike ride a couple years ago. Pooh is good when it comes to the tough stuff.

I get to go downstairs and there he is, in a cage not much bigger than he is, with a turtleneck collar made out of white tape and a tube affixed through it into his jugular vein. I almost can't stand to look at him like this but I put on my best act. He just wants to drunkenly nuzzle his head into my chest. I carry him up and outside for a dash of fresh air but his legs are so wobbly we don't last too long. It's time to go, so I set his bed, the t-shirt and the bear up in his little home for the night. I notice that of all the dogs there, he's the only one who got "hearts" scribbled all over his name tag and on the white board showing who gets what medicine when.

This dog touches everyone the same way...somehow people just love him...and I'll never figure out how he does it...but that's what I love most about him and yea, it's what I'm going to miss the most - the way he is, the way I wish I could be. Upon arriving home, the house is hollow and there's an eerie quiet despite the sounds of a New York night in the village wafting in. The sound of a familiar panting and little toenails scruffing along mixed with slurping at the water bowl are just phantoms in my memory right now. It's a sleepless night without my best friend who is in a cage, stuck to a tube feeding him fluids in his neck while I lie awake praying for another day or two.

AxL-O-Meter: 2 - he now weighs 49.5, down from his average weight of 72 in life and 64 over the last several months. He looks like he's done and is hanging by a thread, maybe two threads at best. This is all too fast and too sad to get my arms around so I just hug him until I have to leave him for the night.

Day 177: Something's Gone Terribly Wrong It's been an amazing year. I've realized that my life is pretty much a "movie" of sorts. Who would've known that by now, I'd have traveled to the South of France and visited Monaco, St. Tropez, Nice, Provence...who would've known that AxL would make it this far, that we would move within this amazing city and that we would've had so many days and adventures that simply must be eventually captured and filled in during the upcoming winter months. In short, I'm making the most of it. Life with Elle has been nothing short of unexpectedly and surprisingly stellar. I'll eventually fill in the details on that, but suffice it to say that things pop out of nowhere which stall me - "Oh, I thought I told you about the night I hung out with Mickey Rourke in Cannes all night? Oh, I thought I told you that I know how to barefoot waterski..." Sometimes I feel like I'm living with a French version of some sort of James Bond character. Of course I learned in the first month that she spoke French, Italian, and English. Then of course I learned that Spanish is actually her second best language months later. Then of course, she just starts babbling in Japanese to the ladies at the dry cleaners a few weeks ago. In any event...I'm on edge. AxL the wonder dog has not just been hanging in there - he's actually been improving to the point where I was beginning to believe that he's going to stick it out another year or two...until the past week. Basically, he started getting picky with food around two or three months ago. We gradually went from organic chicken on his regular food to just pure rice and chicken, rice and london broil on the grill, pasta and hanger steak, couscous and salmon... Around a week ago, his appetite seemed to drop off considerably to the point that he refused all food. Even putting a piece of $17.99 filet mignon on his tongue would be met with a dissatisfied "spitting out" of said vittle. We started acupuncture again last week after giving him a break since the effects wear off over time. During his "weigh in" today after a weekend of not eating anything, we found he's down 8 full pounds in just about five days. "Blood test" says the vet. "Okay..." says I. We get the results tomorrow while we spend tonight yet again denying food freshly cooked on the rooftop on our grill. He just doesn't look right. Sure, he's normally a bit lazy, sleepy and slow...but he looks downright half-dead and depressed the last couple of days. The only thing interesting to him is water which he drinks at an alarming rate. This is of course combined with peeing which somehow has become peeing while sleeping so that when I wake up him to go for a walk, I am met with the task of washing him and mopping the floor. And so, I end the night, fearing that something has gone terribly wrong while praying that whatever it is can be easily and satisfactorily set right. In the interest of catching up again, I'm going to leave off the "ratings" aside from the beloved "AxL-O-Meter" which still rhymes with "thermometer." AxL-O-Meter - 3 He hasn't eaten much in a week, has peed in his sleep three times and once half-way down the hall in the last two days. He's lost 8 pounds since Thursday and looks worse than he ever has in his life except for in March when he was in the same state as he is now. As I fall asleep near him, I keep one foot poked out from under the comforter which I rest gently against his furry back so he knows I'm right here with him...through thick and thin....yes, most definitely "thin."