This is one of those times in your life in which you have an 'aha moment' (as coined by a dear friend of mine)
It is difficult to find the words to convey exactly what I am feeling--but those of you who have gone through a similar experience I'm sure will understand. . .
This past Wednesday we put our beloved pet dog of nearly 14 years down. It was time. . . it's like knowing the inevitable is going to happen--but wishing and hoping somehow for a different outcome.
We rescued this adorable 'mutt' from the Humane Society shortly after our move here to the northwest. The kiddies had been BEGGING for a dog ever since we arrived in our new domicile--after almost a year of putting them off. . . I caved!
Call me weak-spirited--call me whatever you want, but the fact of the matter is--I packed all 4 of them into the family mini-van and off we went to see if we could find a dog to care for that had been abandoned or rescued. . .
After looking around and seeing the sad faces and yappy personalities of most of occupants of the cages I became discouraged. Even though the kids would have taken ANY of them in--I just wasn't impressed and couldn't see myself bringing any of them into our household.
That's when one of the workers pulled a stunt that I thought was only reserved for used car salesmen. He said they 'just got in' another dog in the back--but hadn't brought him out for the general populace to see yet. But he thought that it just might be the dog my family was looking for.
I was very skeptical--but waited with my howling kids who were looking at a morbidly obese dalmatian/dachshund mix who couldn't move from his sitting position and INSISTING we get this dog RIGHT NOW! (I didn't think he would fit in the car, nor was I sure that even all 5 of us could lift him)
Then. . . it happened. That 'moment' when you know your life is about to change forever. The worker brought out this amazing little lab/terrier mix dog. He was only about 30 pounds, fully grown (as he was 2 years old already) black, with a white patch on his underbelly, and the look that he gave me from those sweet chocolate brown eyes completely melted my heart.
Not to mention the fact that he looked EXACTLY down to his size and fur like the dog my dear hubby had grown up with. I mean this dog was like his former dog reincarnated or something. . . The kids and I did an audible gasp. . . and then we went into the 'cubicle' with the dog to check him out and see how he would be with the kids. It was ALL OVER at that point. They LOVED him (right down to the baby) and after being told he was completely housebroken, did NOT dig, would not run away, didn't shed much, could do simple math calculations in his head--(and all the other qualifications I had on my list of 'the perfect dog') we bundled him up and took him home. . .
The name on the paper from his former owners said 'Mickey', and after much arguing and debate among the children--we decided to keep his original name, since he responded to it quite well.
I was a bit anxious to see how dear hubby would react when he got home that evening and discovered our newest family member. Dear hubby took one look at our new pet and it was over for him too. . They bonded like a wet tongue to a metal pole on a freezing day!
And so began nearly 14 years of life with this dog who filled our home and hearts with laughter and love. He became my hubby and sons best hiking buddy. He also liked to camp and fish, take long walks by the beach, attend sports games and 'sing' when dear hubby played the harmonica or oldest son played the trumpet. (and truth be told, the dog's 'singing' sounded much better many times!)
I found out that he truly WAS housebroken, did not dig, and wouldn't run away--but the worker DID exaggerate a bit about the shedding (he did it a lot) and he wasn't too keen on math--but he had a pretty good handle on TIME and when he should eat and be let out to do his business. . .
Friends would comment on how amazing he was--because I can be 'picky' about some things--and we trained this dog to stay OFF the furniture and beds (except for one room where he was allowed to sleep with the kids) He wasn't allowed to go into the formal living and dining room and always kept out (even when we had guests and all of us were in there but him!) And he would wait by the front or back door when let back inside to have his paws wiped off if it was rainy or muddy.
He literally was the PERFECT dog. . . and yes he did some exasperating things at times--but over all he was an excellent fit for our family. . .
But he started getting older, and grayer, and hard of hearing, and then starting having more serious problems that dogs (as well as people) have when they age--and he wasn't eating and other things were going on in his body. . .
So the conundrum is--do you keep him alive and hope he doesn't suffer--or do you allow him to go peacefully without pain, before things start getting worse?
Dear Hubby and I were having these kinds of questions and conversations for the past several weeks. . .
Meanwhile the dog would rally--then get worse--rally right back, then get sick again--and so the cycle went. . .
Finally I made the decision to go ahead and take him to the vet for that 'final time'. I called dear hubby at work--and my youngest son and I went for a late afternoon appointment. . . and I was very impressed that the workers were so sensitive and kind and treated us and our dog with dignity and respect.
This youngest son of mine was just a baby of 3 1/2 when we got this dog--and now he was a big, strapping 17 year old young man who helped me take the dog in and stayed with him right to the very end. It was EXTREMELY bittersweet. There was no pain, we were holding and talking to him right up to the end. . . and then the vet left us to have a last moment and say our final goodbyes to our pet.
I never thought I would react as strongly as I did. I had been complaining about the recent 'accidental messes' this dog had been making since he had gotten older and sicker for quite sometime--but when it came right down to actually going through with it, and having him put to sleep--it was quite another matter entirely.
It's been 3 days and I still find myself waiting for him to greet me at the door (he was the BEST at welcoming anyone into our home) or thinking it's time to feed him and check his water dish, or stopping myself from calling out to him (especially when I've spilled food on the floor--as he was the quickest and best clean-up unit we had going)
Yeah, I know all about the 'circle of life' and all that. . . but it still SUCKS sometimes, ya know? One little 30 pound MUTT made such a huge impact and created such a GIANT space in my heart--and now it's GONE. . .
So even though, I'm having a hard time seeing for the tears to write this all down--I just HAD to remember him and tell about him and even though he is no longer here--I have pictures in my mind and feelings in my heart that will live forever. . . and now a few inadequate words on a blog to remember him by too. . .
Farewell beloved, Mickey. . . .
June 18, 2008
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