3pm

Last night was an especially bad night for Ricky. Since after dinner, he hasn't been able to get up on his legs and spent much of his time whining. Mum and I took turns to soothe him and there was finally peace in the household in the early morning between 5-6am. At 6 plus, we awoke to his crying and found him lying in his own pee...

I had internally made a decision that the day Ricky is unable to get up on his own would be the day we bring him back to the vet to put him to sleep. But on the way to the vet today, Ricky, whilst distressed, was still alert and fighting. He would bite my fingers forcefully and look meaningfully at us with his big black eyes. On the exam table, before the vet came in, he came putting his paw over my hand.

I don't think he's ready to go.

When the vet presented the option of a surgery to remove the lump, with the advice that we have reached a point of no other viable options and that this is the best thing to do, we readily accepted this last chance of hope. A quick call to my brother confirmed the decision and to have the surgery today. Questions ran through my mind. Would he be able to survive? What if he passes on at the surgical table and I don't get to say goodbye? Will he be able to recover after the surgery? What if there are complications? Will removing the lump help him to get on his feet again? But these were non-questions, because I had already prepared myself for the worst in any case.

So now Ricky is at the vet, on drip. My mum and I will be returning back to the vet at 2 plus because his surgery will start at 3pm.

Pray for us.