Hangin' in there

I've just had the saddest day. I have pets. Lots and lots of pets. The queen of the crew is my dog Sammy. She is almost 16 years old, and for a chow mix, that is OLD. Really, really, really old. There is something called "Old Dog Vestibular Disturbance". It's particular to older dogs, and it starts with their eyes shooting back and forth and they behave like they're drunk or have had a stroke. With or without treatment and in about a week to a month, they recover like it never happend. My dog, of course, has been the exception. She's never gotten over it, but she's learned to cope better. Today was a relapse. A terrible relapse. She was going outside to tinkle, and fell down the brick steps and abraded the entire side of her mouth. This happened while I was at clinicals, and my husband had to go to work. I got home and went to let the dogs in, and she was falling down all over the place. I took her to the vet and he thinks maybe the diagnosis was wrong and she may have a brain tumor. He asked if I wanted him to do tests and I asked him if there was anything he could do about it. He said no, but he wanted me to have the option of finding out. I told him no, and brought her home. She's eating well, and drinking well, and goes outside to do her business. She is not having any more shots, or blood drawn, or x-rays, teeth cleanings, or tests. She can eat, drink, sleep, and get petted. That's it. When she doesn't enjoy eating anymore, then we'll pay the extra $100.00 for a house call, and the vet can put her to sleep. Period. The worst part was my husband didn't know I was home from clinicals yet, and left work to come check on her. When he started telling me about her falling this morning, he started crying. That makes twice today my heart was broken.