Doggie Ping
I did it.
Many years ago when my little dog, Potlatch was so ill at almost 15 yrs of age.
He lay on the table, unafraid because I was there and had my hands on him - almost as if he knew we were going to help him.
When the Vet went to get the shot I kept patting him and speaking into his ear as he was mostly deaf by then.
He didn’t even flinch as the shot was injected and I kept hugging him as his life flowed away.
I was crying and the Vet even got teary. He went and got a box to put him in, gave me a huge hug and let me out the back door to leave.
When I got home, my family saw me with the box and without a word they took it and dug a hole in the hard winter ground to bury him.
One of the hardest things I ever had to do and I remember every minute of it still.
But - I was the griever, Potlatch was free.
The vet will put him on a cold steel table, give him a hot shot and if you're lucky he'll go quickly, if you're not, he'll try to crawl to you. It will hurt so badly, you feel your heart will explode in your chest. Then, when the light goes dark in his e yes, you'll gather him up in your arms and hold him until you can bury him on the family's land.
You'll make a little grotto, place him in his grave, place a large stone upon it and leave him. You'll visit your family from time to time and remember that the best and most loving friend you ever had is just across the yard in the woods — you could hit his grave with a stone. You'll mourn and miss his curly little body being glued to your hip and not waiting for you at the door.
Then, in time, you'll find that the Good Lord saw your heart breaking and he had another little guy waiting for you when you were ready, and you'll fall in love again. You'll call your new best friend forever by your old best friend forever’s name, and he'll look up confused, but give you a kiss anyway and you'll have the best of all worlds — one waiting for you on the other side and one in your arms.
You can never have too many best friends who love you and would crawl over broken glass to get to you (or that treat that's just out of their reach in that jar). That's what you'll do.
We lost our beloved Koko two years ago and the wonderful lady vet and her staff sent a sympathy card with this poem included:
The Last Battle
If it should be that I grow frail and weak
and pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this—the last battle—can’t be won.
You will be sad I understand,
Don’t let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.
We have had so many happy years,
What is to come can hold no fears
You’d not want me to suffer, so.
When the time comes, please let me go.
Take me to where to my needs they’ll tend,
Only, stay with me til the end
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you will agree
it is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don’t grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do;
We’ve been so close—we two—these years,
Don’t let your heart hold any tears.
I’m breaking down just thinking of that time.
I hope I can be strong for my dog when he needs me that final time.
. . . 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.
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.