Farewell to My Pal

My pal DOG is gone. He did, in fact, have his opposite-of-birthday one week ago. I haven’t been able to think about posting anything sooner. It’s been a tough week since. Not only because I miss him but I’ve had an upswing in vertigo attacks (yet another post) that have kept me from doing anything but the essentials.

I bought him a t-bone steak the night before and cooked it for him rare with butter. He really enjoyed it and the bone, too. I had to lock Ruby out of the room while he ate. I caught her once chewing on the bone which she’d stolen from him. “Ruby, did you steal DOG’s last meal?” I saved a small bit for him for the morning. Then I held him on the couch while I sipped my coffee and cried.

I took him to Christown Animal Hospital. They were very compassionate but matter-of-fact. I needed them to be that way. I was holding together by a thread as it was. They let me stay with him. I won’t describe it except to say it was over quickly and I wouldn’t have missed one minute of it.

I made a short video of him using Animoto. I’m not done with it. I hope to get more photos from my brother and sister. I also have some video to add. You’ll have to forgive me for making the maudlin choice of “Amazing Grace” for the soundtrack. I really love that song. Plus, it’s sad anyway so why not go for it?

My sister and I agreed that he would be creamated. At first she wanted me to bring him home to Idaho for burial but we nixed that idea pretty quick. I just couldn’t see driving 14 hours with a dead DOG in the trunk. Too weird. I will pick up his ashes next week.

The dog was a gift and I miss him.

DOG’s Opposite-of-Birthday

DOG’s opposite-of-birthday is tomorrow morning. That’s all I can bear to call it, the opposite of his birthday. We don’t actually know when his birthday is. His age is hovering around 17. As near as my sister and I figure, he adopted her in 1995. It might even have been 1994 and he wasn’t a puppy then. G. figures he was about five years old but if that’s true he’s older than my calculation. In the end it doesn’t make a difference. He’s failing, confused, unable to sit or walk well and poops in the house nearly exclusively. This last bit is proof that he’s not in there anymore. Still, making the appointment was one of the strangest things I’ve ever had to do. I’ve known this decision was coming for a while and I’ve been unable to make the call until now. I’m planning to make a memorial video so if anyone has pictures of him, send them my way.

Serious DOG Thoughts

Just got finished listening to last week’s NPR Fresh Air Dog Week. A vet in California wrote a book about advocating for your pet’s health. She talked about the difficulty in making a decision to euthanize an old or sick pet. She says the most common question is, “Is my pet in pain?” And that is not always the place to start. She likened it to a person having the flu. You are not in pain but you feel like crap. In other words, you can make a decision based on more than just if your pet is in searing pain. I’m paraphrasing here.

I’m in to this because it’s becoming time, maybe past time, to make a decision about DOG. I had hoped he’d go naturally but I get the sense he’s waiting for me to do something. One of the recommendations from the good vet is that you get down and look your pet directly in the eye. Despite the fact that the dog can’t hear, can’t see well and seems to have lost his sense of smell he’s still in there.

I don’t think he’s in pain exactly. But he is having a hard time getting up and down. He paces for ages before lying down and never sits anymore. He’s either bolt upright or supine. No in between. He’s very shaky on his feet. The slight (very slight, maybe 3”) elevation into the laundry room requires a hop to navigate. Same with making it over the door sill which is less than 2 inches. He often runs his hind quarters into the door jam because apparently it’s too taxing having to hop over the rise AND THEN go over the door jam. He must be exhausted because he’s been peeing and pooping (when not pooping on the floor, which we’ll get to in a minute) directly on the patio. I’m pretty sure his sense of smell is gone which would once have stopped him from stepping in his own urine. Or sleeping on a piece of his own poo, which he did three nights ago. I’m tired of him crapping on the carpet. He’s banned from parts of the house with carpet because I’m trying to keep it somewhat clean while the house sells. He now has to sleep in the office on his big pillow.

It’s starting to change how I feel about him. And I feel guilty that part of the consideration here is for me and my ease. I’m just plain sick of cleaning up his bodily fluids every day. Let’s not even talk about the bile I find sometimes because he’s still eating grass. Of course he waits until he’s inside to hurl it back up.

Despite all this, he deserves all my hand-wringing and more. He’s a great old dude.

DOG Update

My mother thinks DOG had a stroke. I think we’re on borrowed time. He seems both better and worse. Just not bad enough to take him in for the final time, if you know what I mean. Of course I will if I think he’s in terrible pain. However, it’s my quality of life that is going down, not his. He can’t hear well. He’s been leaving poop on the floor overnight which he has never done in his whole long life. It’s sad to watch him get up and down. Every once in a while I help him sit and stand. When we take a drive, I lift him into the car the way cowboys wrangle little doggies. But give him a buffered aspirin in some cheese and he’s almost spry. Now we’re simply grappling with timing and hoping he chooses his own time and place. And that I’m with him when he does.

I Think I Want a FURminator

Dang, I think I need one of these things for D.O.G. He sheds like you read about, leaving a DOG-shaped ring wherever he goes. But Dooce (a favorite blog) said it worked for her furball so I think I’ll try it. In the meantime, let me post some pix of the haircut D.O.G. got last summer. My only excuse, the blades were dull.