RIP March 03,2009
Posted on 03/26/2009 12:59:38 PM PDT by OneVike
. . . but it would be worse for them to lose us and wander bewildered and sorrowing, looking and having no answers.
We have to endure it, for THEIR sake.
My Labs are my dear loves, and I dread the day I have to say goodbye to either one of them.
Love that awesome sledder you have there. LOL
I have called my vet and asked her if the time comes (notice the denial in the word “if)...when the time comes to help my beloved (almost 14 now) Lola, would she come to my home to help us send Lola to heaven?
without hesitation, she said, “yes.”
someone suggested I call my vet to ask. I am so glad I did.
would I have looked for another vet? It would be hard, but I would have. Our vet is wonderful!
I have resigned myself to the reality that this would be the last loving thing I do for my pupster...funny, I know this sounds silly, but if the chore were reversed she would do it for me.
This thread has me tearing up.
My dog, Darwin, passed away a year and half ago, and it feels like yesterday. He was a very special border collie, with a wonderful sense of humor, and just the happiest disposition. For 13 years, we were inseparable, taking every trip together, and just getting the most out of an all-too short life.
He got bone cancer three months before he died, and was still playful, even playing up till the last day, despite only three legs.
He saved me that last, painful job. On his final day, I knew has was soon to leave. But he still had a wag in his tail, and a sparkle in his eye. As the day drew on, I knew I had to take him to the vet. I called a traveling vet, who happened to be just around the corner (he services the entire DC area, so this was a pretty big coincidence).
I told him I would call him back. I just couldn’t bring myself to get him to come over just yet. I went back inside, Darwin looked at me, and I knew I had to call.
I went back outside to make the call, and as I was coming back in, I saw a huge, blue butterfly. I thought it was a bird it was so big. I was mesmerized by it, having never seen one so large, or with such a soft, blue color. I really felt like I was seeing an angel.
When I came back in, my GF said that he was watching an angel. I thought she was talking about me, but she was talking about Darwin. She said that the whole time I was outside, his eyes were following something that she couldn’t see. It was only when I came back in that he stopped.
Darwin lay on his front, with me behind him, and all of a sudden turns his head, at great effort, looked in my eyes, and held them for about five seconds. He looked scared, but also just like he didn’t want to leave me. And then with his final effort, pushed his entire body into mine, and pressed his head into mine, holding tightly for what seemed like an eternity.
I held him tight, and eased him back down, where he died peacefully.
As painful as it was (and is), I feel so blessed that I was able to be there for him.
It is always hard. But never was it, nor I’m sure will it ever be, as hard as it was for The One. She’s been dead 13 years now, and never a week goes by I don’t think of her. My husband rolls his eyes how I go on about her, the greatest dog ever.
My Katie is buried under the camellia bush in the back yard. She has been gone almost 4 years and I still miss her even though I have 2 other “floor mats” as I call them. (No matter where I am they are under my feet.) She was a once in a lifetime dog. I love the ones I have now, but Katie was special.
I do cocker rescue and the calls that make me the saddest and the angriest are the idiots who call me wanting ME to take their dog to be put to sleep.
My Katie is buried under the camellia bush in the back yard. She has been gone almost 4 years and I still miss her even though I have 2 other “floor mats” as I call them. (No matter where I am they are under my feet.) She was a once in a lifetime dog. I love the ones I have now, but Katie was special.
I do cocker rescue and the calls that make me the saddest and the angriest are the idiots who call me wanting ME to take their dog to be put to sleep. I was with Katie and I have been with all pets. I owe it to them, the last thing they should see and hear is me telling them I love them.
RIP March 03,2009
My own dear brother's German Shepard developed Hip Dysplasia. He spent a fortune and did everything he could to save his buddy, but after a while the dog would crawl outside to go to the bathroom, come back in & lay in his bed crying; even the pain meds were useless.
It was time. The morning my brother took his beloved pet to the vet, he cooked a rare steak and some potatoes and gave his best friend what he described as his "last supper".
As the dog laid with his head cradled in my brother's arms the vet tenderly gave him the shot. We all cried for days.
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When we got to the vet, she said she could run a series of medical tests if I wanted them done.
Just to make sure, I had them done. He had a large tumor near his stomach. His calcium level was very high which she said was an indication that it had spread.
I laid down on the floor with 101 and I said my last good-bye to him. The vet gave him a shot to relax him and he put his head on my lap.
As the vet gave him the final shot, I talked calmly and softly to 101 as his breathing slowed and finally ended.
The vet was wonderful and told me I could stay in the room with him as long as I needed to. They also carried him out to my car so I could bury him next to Pups, Bear, and Mick, all past family members of our canine family.
Hip Dysplasia is no fun. Darwin had it from age 2 on. Healthy, he was not (also spleen cancer, anal cancer, heart problems - I am still in debt, lol); but they are so resilient and happy to be alive.
I love the idea of the last supper. I think that dogs really know (and understand) much more than people give them credit for. And I am sure that the dog who dies in the arms of their loved ones really does appreciate it.
I still don’t know if I could have handled actually “putting him down”. I like to think that he intentionally saved me from that, and chose to go early (10 minutes later, and it would have been different).
The sadness is proportional to the joy. I never thought that I could get that attached to anything, and I can now look back on it and really appreciate it.
Mine was an old horse doctor — everything from tagging livestock, shoeing horses and taking care of my little angel. We've been friends for a long time. He brought my little guy through a serious illness at the start of his wee life and broke down with me when he had to put him down. 18 years was a long time together, and Doc. recognized it.
When I had to put my dog of 14 years to sleep, I had to carry her to the car and put her in the back seat..When I got to the vets I went inside and asked if the vet could come out to the car to put her to sleep...She said Of course and my Mona died in the back set, comfortable and in my arms...You really don’t have to take your dog inside. Most vets will be glad to come out to your car...
That’s the way I felt about the situation also.
Thanks to you & One Vike.
When a friend at Purina found my Hairy, he had been tortured and thrown down a storm sewer to die in old rehab neighborhood in South St. Louis. He was rescued and turned over to a kill shelter. My friend called and said I should get down there right away.
The shelter wouldn't let me take him home and he had to spend the 4th of July weekend in the heat and damp conditions. When I got him he was so sick that my “free dog” wound up costing me a fortune. Three vets (including the kill shelter) told me to just put him down.
I just had the feeling the little guy had the heart of a lion and all the City Vets didn't want to give him the time of day, so I called up my old Vet in the country. Doc said bring him out, and I did.
Doc treated him for pneumonia and staff infection. It was six months of nursing the little guy who was only a year old. I'd feed him chicken soup from a medicine dropper. He bled so badly from the antibiotics that it looked like the Manson family had been in my tiny apartment at the time.
My mother, my son and I would baby him and nurse him. My mother would hold him and rock him. It got so my son would come home from Kindergarten and have to ring the doorbell so Hairy would come to see who was there and then the two would race back to see who could hit my mother's lap first.
When I was able to save enough to buy the house, Hairy had a half an acre of yard to call his own. He loved it. He'd go out and give the birds and squirrels hell. The opossum was his only danger (he thought it was there to play — not so much).
I lost him 18 years later. Little HairyWhoTeenie (named by my son). The 12 pound poodle who escaped death — the yard now and then, too — but he'd wind up on the front porch head butting the door. (As Ex said, he knew when he had it good — hm...m...m — I wonder — but that's another story.) ;-) Doc was a country vet -- he understood the life cycles of animals and didn't cotton with any maudlin emotions. He'd work tirelessly to save an animal -- the day he put Hairy down, he was in a cast up to his elbow from a dog that turned on him and practically took his arm off (Doc said he was getting old and couldn't move as fast), but he had to leave the room after the shot and when he walked in his eyes were red. It was traumatic, but there was a peace that we'd done all we could,and it was time. I've been so blessed in my life in that regard. God has always given me time to say I love you and let go. When it's time, there's resignation and peace.
Thanks, papasmurf.
What a beautiful story...they do know us in such a very special spiritual way.What a gift they are from God!
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