Pippin's back legs weren't working when I got up in the middle of the night, and by moring this was no better. So I went off to the doggie ER, holding her above the fray of the other dogs. Nice, friendly dogs, curious about that interesting new little guy who had just come in. But Pippin is an irritable, paranoid dog and doesn't welcome visitors.
Even a small dog can get heavy after two hours. Yet, we do what must be done.
We haven't had to put her down yet, but it may come if she doesn't improve by tomorrow. The vet started talking about a neurologist, MRI's, possible surgery if the anti-inflammatory doesn't fix things up. I waved him off. It's a dog, and dogs don't have the same questions of mortality and future prospects that humans do. They only know how they feel this minute. You can't tell them that "it will be better soon." That's meeting the master's need, not the dog's.
All of the other people in the waiting room had at least two other animals, but no children.