26/02/2025
August 2021 - February 24, 2025
After 6 months of struggle, healing, and treatment - came the decision I did not expect to make. We had to put Subway to sleep. To put into easier words, we exhausted all approaches from different types of medication to a procedure he can never be deemed fit enough for. From close monitoring by bringing him to my dorm for the weekdays to confinements as maintenance every weekends or longer than that when needed. To investing in food he likes, to making efforts so he could get enough calorie and medication intake, to ensuring he is comfortable even when his odds are against him.
With every effort done, there was a temporary relief, but nothing truly sufficed. He had a hearty appetite and drank a lot of water, yet he would lose weight and was dehydrated. His teeth were all rotten. He could not reach high places anymore. No matter the deed, his health was already deteriorating. He would become lethargic but went back to normal after fluids, but this time, it was different. Within the 9 days of his last confinement, he lost weight and could not walk straight anymore. I opened his cage and as he recognized my voice, he mustered enough strength to walk towards me and lay his head on my feet.
It hit me hard, realizing that his sustenance was no longer in my hands. I knew what to do, amidst the confusion of why his state was really bad. It was a terrible feeling, to be put on the spot knowing that I failed him. I wanted someone to tell me that it was time to let go, and I am more than grateful to hear a close friend say what I needed to hear and for our dear veterinarian validating it also. I am thankful our last moment shared together was him laying on my lap, seeing him get his first and last taste of chocolate (just a custom before they are laid to rest), and kissing his face until his heart stopped beating.
How peaceful it was for the both of us to sleep in the same bed, how peaceful it was for me to be with him everyday, but most importantly - how peaceful it was for him not to feel pain anymore.
My Subway, I hope you understood that every decision I made was for your best interest. I am sorry for all my shortcomings. I love you so much and I hate that you aren't here anymore. If there is one thing I am sure of, that was the last and best gift I could have done for you. Thank you for showing me your kindness, gentle heart, and empathy as well. Run free, Subway. π