This is bad news

I apologize

This is going to be a long post. And the dog dies at the end.

Usually when I am writing, I am doing it in a cloud of Betsey farts. She has a bed in my office that she curls up on and watches me work. In fact, wherever I am, she would be there. I put a bed in every room of our house just for her. We would spend an hour together in the evenings curled up together in my bed watching TV or reading a book. Today I have gone back and forth between sobbing loudly and forgetting momentarily she is gone, only to be reminded and start sobbing again.

Betsey joined our family in November of 2023. If you follow me on social media you’ve probably heard this story several times now. I’m going to tell it again anyways.

Her owner committed suicide. She was with his body for several days. Alone. Without food. She was taken to the shelter. A kind friend of her owner found her, brought her home. But the HOA had breed/size rules. So her picture and story was sent out to various rescues and websites in an attempt to find her a home. R&R Boxer Rescue took her in just in time. Posted her story. I saw it on Facebook and immediately reached out to offer a foster home. I was not looking for another senior dog. I had just lost my Kona girl to DM. I had attempted to rescue another dog that wasn’t a good match for my family, had to return him to the rescue and felt incredibly ashamed about that experience. So my offer to R&R was simply to foster so that Betsey could be rescued.

Betsey was so sweet, gentle and chill with my autistic son. She knew all kinds of tricks and was super well behaved. She was great on a leash. She didn’t care about my son’s toys. She was content to lay next to us and just be in the same room. She loved car rides. She was fiercely protective of our home. It took two whole days to fall in love with her. I messaged the rescue that I wanted to adopt her.

We had a vet appointment a month or so ago. We did bloodwork and an exam. The vet said she was in great health for her age. Said he didn’t plan to see us again anytime soon.

I went to Disneyland for my birthday and my dog sitter sent me pictures of Betsey on walks. Napping around the house. I came home on October 18^th and Betsey ran up and greeted me like a puppy. She was eating normally. No vomiting, issues going to the bathroom, changes in activity. There was absolutely no warning.

On Wednesday night, my son wanted to spend the night at his grandparents. I said sure. Dropped him off. I was excited to have some time to ‘work’. Spend some time with my husband.

I started an Instagram page for Betsey that night. I wanted to expand on the Dear Management column. I had been planning to make a book of her life advice. I finished her weekly post on the Substack and went into the living room to watch some TV, excited about the possibility of sleeping in the next morning. At some point while I had been writing the column, Betsey went back into the bedroom and passed out on my bed. My husband went to bed around 10pm. I finished my show around midnight and headed to bed.

When I walked in the bedroom, I heard her panting. It wasn’t necessarily unusual. She had a tendency to get in under the covers and get hot, crawl out and pant a little. So I went up to her in the dark and whispered, “did you get too hot, little girl?” And when I went to pet her, she was trembling. Her body was shaking way more than when fireworks scare her. I touched her head and it was hot to the touch. I mean like burning hot. I woke my husband up. Said something is wrong.

We got her off the bed and she wobbled outside, went pee. My husband got her water and she was drinking it. I looked at her gums. They were the normal color. She got back on the bed and she was still shaking. She started to make a noise I never heard her make. It sounded like pain and trouble breathing.

I told my husband again, something is wrong. I told him to load her in the car and I threw on my clothes, grabbed my cell, called the 24hr vet. Our “24hr vet” had an automated message about not being open and had another number to try. I called it, confirmed they were open, told them I was coming and what was wrong. I jumped in the car and drove Betsey in the dark as fast as I could to the vet that is 30+ minutes away.

She had a fever of 105. They started fluids and did a chest x-ray. The x-ray showed she had a mass on her lung. They didn’t know if the mass was causing the issue or it was just something they discovered in the course of trying to diagnose. I was given two options:

Take Betsey home, give her some antibiotics and see if she gets better in the next couple days. Or, get the ultrasound and see if there is something more serious going on. I think he gave me these two options because of money. Not because he seriously thought it was a good idea to take her home, but because he knew the second option was priced dramatically different.

I chose the ultrasound. Which they couldn’t do immediately. I was sent home. Tried to sleep a couple hours. Failed at that miserably. Got up, got dressed again. Started to get shoes on and ready to drive back up. When the doctor called to tell me they did the ultrasound.

They found an abscess in her liver. Fluid in the abdomen. Septic peritonitis. I did not have time to take her home and schedule an in home euthanasia. He said I needed to get there right away and say goodbye. I got there as fast as I could. I was able to spend about 15 minutes with her before I called in the vet and started the process of letting her go. She seemed happy to see me. But also clearly in pain. That part kills me.

I am so sad and so angry. I don’t understand how I could be in Disneyland one minute happy and celebrating my birthday with my niece, missing my dog, checking in with the dog sitter. Thinking am I dressing her up as a cow again this year for Halloween? And a week later I’m picking out a box for her ashes.

I jinxed it all. I know that. I was so excited about Dear Management. I loved imagining how she would answer people’s letters about their problems. I pictured her voice sounding like Lauren Bacall. It just seemed to fit her personality so well. I created the Instagram and thought, this is perfect. I could share more pictures of Betsey. I loved sharing her with everyone. I loved that she had so many people happy for her, loving her from afar. She deserved that. She deserved nothing but so much love.

The second I started imagining this future with her, she gets sick. This is completely my fault. I know that. It is not lost on me.

Before all this, I was seriously considering where 5149 & ½ Art would be going in 2026. Art is not sustainable in this economy. It isn’t suddenly going to turn around. I kept thinking before Disneyland what if something happens? What if there is an emergency? What if I get sick? All these scenarios and how I could afford it. I have been looking at jobs. Putting feelers out and prepping my resume. I kept waking up around 2-3am every single night freaking out about how to work a “job”, homeschool my son, be away from my son, how much could my parents help out, what if I got a graves shift, do I want to go back to 911, can I go back to 911, all the things….

And it hit me in Disneyland, I can’t go back to work yet. I have Betsey. What would I do with her all day…I don’t want her alone.

I thought, I will get through the next few months and start 2026. I am waiting to hear back on some writing fellowships. The plan was just get through the ‘school year’, enjoy being home with my son and Betsey. Do all the things I can now to bring in some money from art during the holiday spending season. Cut back at home how I can. Don’t do anything stupid.

My son knows that Betsey went to be with Kona. He doesn’t understand it yet. And probably won’t for a while. I think it will take time to notice she is not home. That the beds are all gone. The bowls gone. His job of picking up poop, gone. He sleeps so he’s always touching her. She won’t be there. And when he starts repeatedly saying, “Betsey is gone” or “Betsey is with Kona” it will kill me. But I won’t be able to cry or be sad because he will know. He will feel it. And my son gets so distraught when mommy is sad. He is at his grandparents right now so that I can cry as much as possible privately because I will not be able to cry in front of him.

So I am writing now at a loss. I miss my dog. I don’t know what the future holds for me and my art business. To my paid subscribers, I have no idea what to do about the Dear Management column. I don’t think anyone particularly wants to read a weekly update on how miserable I am without my dog. I feel a massive amount of guilt. I feel like Betsey deserved so much more.

If you made it this far in this story, thank you for your support. Whether you found us recently through a rescue fundraiser, or you have been there from the beginning when Management was a wheelchair bound boxer boy named Buckner. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Thank you for supporting dog rescue with me. And thank you for loving Management with me.