Little to no sleep, endless prayer, an especially early morning, and a long trek. You’d think the time would have stood still, but it seemed to pass by in a blink. A time where we were blessed to escort, to hold, to comfort, and to love a beautiful soul we just met. A soul that someone else threw away, that someone else walked past and didn’t care to help when he was suffering at a shelter. It should have felt like a long drive, but it didn’t. I wonder why it didn’t? I think maybe because it was filled with not only classical music and love, but it was our last few hours of unlimited hope. Reality can be brutal, but hope somehow makes the darkness of such cruelty a tiny bit softer.
We arrived at the vet not long ago. The only vet we would trust to do this surgery because it’s going to be extremely complicated. There is no guarantee he will survive. There’s no guarantee if he survives, he will continue to survive. The estimate alone for just a week in the hospital is going to be between $9,000 and $13,000 due to the extreme nature of the care he’ll need.
To be honest, none of that matters right now. His numbers have dropped. He now needs a blood transfusion and a plasma transfusion before his surgery. They are doing that right now. And then they will bring him back. They will softly and gently and lovingly put him to sleep. Not forever, but under anesthesia where they can go in and try to remove or at least assess the damage that others have caused and done to him. But when they go in, if there is no hope of a recovery or true quality of life, they will call us and we will end his suffering and help him find peace.
But when we arrived at the vet, they brought out the stretcher and we carefully moved him as gently as possible. When he lay on the stretcher under the sun, we all put our hands on him. My hands cradled his face gently, I softly told him how much we all love him, and as I did, what seemed like two seconds, he looked me in the eye with the bright blue sky behind him, and for one single moment, I felt hope.
Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe that’s my soul just screaming for some part of this to make sense when none of it does. When an animal suffered for no reason for so long, a simple x-ray could have diagnosed it upon intake to the shelter with an extremely emaciated dog. But those two seconds of beauty, looking into his eyes and that single moment of hope, as quick as they were, continue to fill my heart. I remember them vividly because I saw him, and he saw me. His bright brown wide eyes, I think in so many ways, said thank you, even if it’s us ultimately saying goodbye.
He was seen.
He was loved, and in that exact moment, he knew his life mattered.
Is this the right decision? Maybe not. It’s easy to question every action. We did not cause his pain, but are we prolonging it? Only God truly knows. But as I said in every post yesterday, God knows our heart. We recognize the gravity of this situation, knowing that the outcome is uncertain, and yet, our unwavering faith remains in that even if we did it, it was done out of love.
Some miracles, only God can do. And to have such an amazing team that battles for his right to live, as well as his right for peace, is such a beautiful thing. I only wish every single animal or truly every soul on this earth has as much love as Mikhal does in this incredibly short 48 hours.
If your heart is called to make a donation towards his care or to others that we love as fiercely as him, please do. This is how your money is spent—investing in the souls that others throw away, that other “shelters” neglect, investing in the people that give their lives to help protect them, advocate for them, fight for them, and love them.
Now we pray. Now we continue to pray. And now we put it in God’s hands—what only He can control and our trusted vet care.