Seemed to me the main point was PBT owners tend to be cruel. That’s my view of it. I didn’t see it as nakedly anti-PBT.
And if you want to know why I haven’t read and responded until now, it’s because I spent all afternoon in the emergency clinic with my GS since I stupidly cut her toenail way too far back. Very busy for them today, including 2 euthanasias while I was there (I waited 3-1/2 hrs). 1 dog, 1 cat, and I had talked a good deal with their owners as well as hugged them when they obviously put down the animals. So that puts another viewpoint on this whole thing for me.
Putting down your pet must be an awful experience.
You know you have to do the right thing but the hurt of the loss must terrible.
I get lost in sadness even contemplating the day I have to make that decision.
It was good of you to comfort them.
About the toenails have you tried using a dremel to trim them?
Trim a little with a clipper and then dremel the remainder.
Since July, we’ve found ourselves in an awkward position concerning our Mr. Patch, a mostly Lab mixed almost evenly with his mama, a Springer; having inherited the terrible hips of both, he now finds himself dragging where he once pranced.
Three times in the past five months we have taken him to see Dr. Pennington, such a stately name for such a compassionate man - to get more powder to treat his nether region now covered by a once-proud tail.
He spends more time outside now, lying down where the grass, dead as it may be, meets the gravel on which he’s rolled gloriously so many times these last love-filled years.
On each of these visits to Dr. P., knowing glances have been exchanged, tender palpations applied, and an unspoken agreement to just keep holding the Devil in his place and allow the required bureaucratic immunizations to remain in abeyance while we keep faithful watch.
On those extended respites in early winter’s faint sun, sometimes he lies so still that I creep out on little cat feet and touch his neck where he loves to be scratched; while I study his nearly motionless chest - it’s just a matter of time now until that stout heart makes that final leap to merge with my own.
But until that day, me and Patch play the timeless game, neither willing to admit the other won the final round.