Bischen means "little bit" in German. It's the name we gave our Miniature Schnauzer puppy when we first met him in South Carolina. We drove a state away and paid $550 for him because Mom thought they said 50. He was the runt. Itty bitty. He came with an afghan made for him by his breeder. She made one for every puppy. He was buried in it yesterday.
He's been sick for a while. Last year he was diagnosed with a mild heart murmur. About three months ago he had his yearly and he was doing worse. A month ago he had a stroke and went blind. It's been rough for the little boy, but he kept eating and drinking and fighting to stay alive. This past weekend my hubby and I mostly took care of him while my mom was outta down since my stepdad works during the day, even on weekends.
Saturday Bischen and I shared a banana. He rolled over on his belly and kicked as I scratched him. He was fighting. Monday, Mom came home from work to find him coughing and struggling to breathe. She rushed him to the vet and they told her his enlarged heart was putting pressure on his lungs and they were filling up with fluid. If she took him home he would end up dying a horrible death, choking on his own lungs. It was 3pm when she left me an 11 second message at work.
"I'm at the vet with Bischen. He won't be coming home."
Mom was by his side til the last. Every moment. I'm so grateful for that.
My brother rushed over to help Mom dig a hole to bury Bischen as Mom wrapped him in his baby blanket. My brother got to pick the spot where he would be buried and asked to keep his collar. Bischen was our boy. He would have been ten in November.
I know none of you knew him, but he's been a part of my life about as long as you all have. So, RIP little boy.
