It’s been 8 weeks since Poppy’ s terminal diagnosis. We have had more time than we expected and we have made the most of it. Lulled into a false sense of security, today has been a sad day and it seems we are starting the beginning of the end.

Her weight loss has been constant since April. It was only a matter of time before her thinness crossed the line. I don’t think there is an ounce of fat left on her, which awfully means she is starving to death. 

The poor girl is ravenous so we are feeding her constantly, but it is to no avail. If anything it is a shortlived feeling making her and us feel better. I wonder what she is thinking, feeling hungry all the time?

She has started refusing walks regularly. Her mind is willing as she comes to the door, but then she stops and shakes. All I have to say is ‘do you want to go back to bed?’ and she heads back to the sofa.

How will we know when to let her go? My head says now, before she suffers a fit or a stroke. Thats easier said than done; my heart doesn’t want to walk a bright eyed wagging tail into the vet to meet her end. 

So what will tip the scales?

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