This post is part of the August 2012 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month’s prompt is “fire and ice”.
The other night I just about lost it. My dog was pacing endlessly, refusing to go to bed and running downstairs every time I brought him up. I’d taken him out dozens of times during the day and during the night but he’d only gone inside the house where it could be tracked all over. Then my mom called and said she had decided to put the dog, who is technically hers, down not at the end of August but immediately, one week from today. She and my brother fly in today.
Kind of puts things in perspective, having to call the vet and the funeral home to schedule euthanasia and cremation.
In my head, I know she’s right. He has end-stage senile dementia and incontinence that won’t respond to the most powerful medication we can throw at it. Despite or perhaps because of the anipryl, which he’s been on for two weeks, my dog’s sundowner pacing and incontinence have gotten worse. Since I picked him up from the boarder a week ago 75% of his excretions have been in the house, to the point where I had to cover the floor with puppy pads just for my own peace of mind. I’ve gone through nearly 50 pads and 2 bottles of cleaner in that time. And, as happened the other night, sometimes his pacing is so bad that neither of us sleeps a wink.
In my head, I know it’s no kind of life for either of us to live. My dog is always afraid, always confused, and not at all himself. I’m bound to him like a straitjacket, with no ability to live my own life; I have to come home in the middle of the day, I can’t go out at night, I can’t even work out upstairs for more than half an hour. Mopping and Glade plugins can only do so much for the cleanliness of my house when the flow of excrement just won’t stop.
And yet in my heart I am devastated, I am torn apart, by the thought of euthanizing my dog. Despite all my frustrations, when I’m confronted with what our life has become versus his death, I’m almost willing to take that on as a burden. To keep him alive, I’m willing to put up with a level of responsibility that any dog owner or even me circa 2009, would cringe at. I can take it, I tell myself. For his sake.
After all, he’s my mutty buddy who’s lived with me for two years, the puppy who used to run with us on the Lake Michigan sands, the dog who was always so happy to see us that he’d charge back and forth barking with his favorite squirrel toy. He was born into a house of giggling Michigan teenage girls in 1998, named after a character in Titanic, an enthusiastic snowpuppy who used to come in with snow and iceicles matted into his fuzz. Even moving down here to the land of volcanic summers and no winters with my parents abroad, he’s been the only one to greet me, the only one to be happy to see me, the only one who I could hug after a long day in what’s been a very lonely and often depressing period for me.
It may be that we’d do the same for any family member, if we could, who was too far gone mentally to have any quality of life. For me, making those surreal calls to vet and crematorium in which I couldn’t bring myself to use the real words for what I was doing…I can’t honestly say which is worse, not knowing when a loved one may die, of knowing down to the second. The man at the crematoria took pains to tell me how they treat pets like humans, giving them all the dignity and care that they would any other body. He mentioned having to lose his own three dogs, which I appreciated, one pet owner to another.
The vet said I’ll have the option to be there with him at the end. It will destroy me, but I think I should.
August 6, 2012 at 8:34 am
I was unable to be there when my feline baby was put down. In fact, my parents didn’t even tell me they had done it until a few days later. I knew she was failing rapidly, but I was still devestated at not being able to say goodbye. It still breaks my heart to have not been there for her in her final moments.
When my 14 year old puppy was put down years later, I arrived at the vet early only to find that my parents had also brought her in early, so I got there just as they were beginning to inject her. I think she saw me say goodbye. At least I hope she did.
Being there may destroy you, but it is a better destruction than that you would feel after not being there.
August 6, 2012 at 9:36 am
Thanks for sharing your stories, Aubrey. It makes my decision a little easier. I still remember when our last dog was put down unexpectedly while I was in kindergarten, but that was decades ago and the memories are a little faded. Being there for a chinchilla just isn’t the same, and even that was 16 years ago.
August 6, 2012 at 1:38 pm
That’s so sad. I’ve never had to have a pet euthanized, but there was a time when my husband’s parents’ dog was sick. We were all attached to her. My husband and I were speeding to the vet’s office to get help, and she died in my arms. I’ll never forget how horrible that felt.
August 6, 2012 at 4:23 pm
My parents had our poodle put down because he was suffering after having eaten some fertilizer in a neighbor’s shed. It was horrible and I wasn’t there. I felt such a void when that happened.
I think your being there will give better closure for you when he’s gone.
August 7, 2012 at 11:18 am
Oh, Noooo!!! what a tough situation/spot to be in…even after all these years can still see the troubled look in the stranger’s face who was decent enough to venture up our long driveway to knock on our door to break the sad news about my dog’s fate when he attempted to venture over to the other farm on the other side of the road…wishing you a sense of peace and comfort…
August 8, 2012 at 7:34 am
It’s a very tough situation, especially given that animals create an instant bond. You get an animal because you want to, therefore you love them “faster” and “stronger”. A friend of mine just lost her dog, had to be put down because of a three-day epileptic attack, she’s devastated. Putting him down might have been hard but it’s the best to end the suffering. My condolences.
August 8, 2012 at 1:49 pm
I am so sorry for your pain. Dogs are incredibly warm creatures who forge a pathway to our hearts with pure loyalty and caring. Ican’t imagine how much this is tearing you up.
August 8, 2012 at 4:44 pm
Reminds me of my first dog. He was a loyal friend who got hit over the head with a pipe by some robbers when the broke into my house. The neurological damage was devastating. He deteriorated quickly after that.
August 14, 2012 at 5:41 pm
Oh no! That is way worse than my dog story! This is how it is with you guys, I post a tale of woe and you woe-up it by a power of ten 🙂
August 10, 2012 at 11:30 pm
While I am writing this, my own ancient golden retriever is lying peacefully asleep on the floor beside me. She is asleep only because of the benadryl I gave her about an hour ago, when we were both worn out from the pacing and panting. She is just starting to have incontinence issues and I know the day is not far off when we’ll be taking our own last ride. I’ve been there before, many times, as we have always been a many pet household. It never gets any easier, but I think if you truly love them, you love them enough not to want them to suffer. You love them enough to let them go. It’s the price you pay for all the love and the laughter. Take care.
August 14, 2012 at 5:40 pm
Your comment is just what I needed to read, because as much as the vet said this was a common problem I never knew any other dog that had it. I’m glad my poor mutt wasn’t the only one, and the fact that you’re coming to the same sad endgame that I did means I feel a bit better about the decision.
August 14, 2012 at 2:08 pm
We had to put down our English bulldog right before the baby was born because something “snapped” in his head and he turned aggressive. It was so hard because he was otherwise perfectly healthy. My husband had him 8 years. But we couldn’t take the chance with a baby in the house and no shelter would accept him cause he’d bitten several people.
August 14, 2012 at 5:39 pm
Aw, the same thing happened to Patches, our family’s last dog. She got all wrong in the head and vicious so we had to put her down when I was in kindergarten. The vet thought it might have been a brain tumor.
August 17, 2012 at 11:11 am
I feel for you. It’s a tough place to be in and I’m afraid no words can make it any better. But I also think you should be there for the both of you.