Argh.... decision time. Either humanely euthanize him at our clinic, or let him go home with me, and have his moment on a nice, warm bed. Option 2 won the internal struggle, and off we went with pain meds, IV bags, and a don't get too attached because you know his chances are very slim but let's make his last night comfortable attitude.
He made it through the first syringe feeding, and then to the 6 hour mark for more medications. I know this sounds weird, but the studies about putting preemie twins together for the human touch factor to increase their chances of survival kept going through my head, and I wrapped him up and put him in the bed with me.
Next thing we knew, it was morning; he had beat the odds and made it through the night. And then this happened.
Drinking water suddenly became no problem, but we were still faced with the eating- eh, I'd prefer not to demeanor. More medications were added, the tail slowly became un-tucked and visible, but he had no interest in food and still had to be syringe fed every 3 hours.
As the campaign to get this dog to eat continued, I tossed some dry food on the floor next to him. That resulted in a weak, sad eyed nose turn up, until, all of a sudden... crunch crunch crunch. Another food toss into the folds of the blanket brought about some sniffing, followed by crunching. This slow but steady progress has been happening throughout the day, and although he is not out of the woods yet, we have growing hope that he is going to make it.
Thank you to all who have been pulling for him. Oftentimes we make decisions based not on logic, but on what the soul dictates. No matter what the outcome is for this Biscuit, we will have no regrets.
I know you're tired but come, this is the way.