You sit in the exam room while the vet pulls up the latest scans. She says it plainly: more treatment will only stretch out the suffering, it will not fix anything. Bella is thirteen. Right now she is thumping her tail against the floor, watching your face like nothing is wrong. The vet slides a pamphlet across the table and waits for your answer. Before you go she suggests you point a camera at Bella's bed for a few nights, so you can see how she does when the house is quiet.
The Last Good Day