My ex and I said goodbye to Darling Dog today. Precocious Daughter opted out, which I understand. She processes things in her own way. I respect that.
I told you guys a few days ago that DDog was sick. Three days in the animal hospital, receiving fluids and antibiotics, did almost nothing to improve his outlook. Bloodwork indicated a number of markers that indicated he probably had cancer, and the vestibulitis was just a by-product of his weakened immune system.
You can read about DDog here.
Or here, which honestly is my favorite post about my sweet boy.
This afternoon my ex and I met at the vet's. In a private examination room, the doctor explained DDog's situation (still not eating after 10 days, only hydrated because of IV fluids, unable to walk, negligible improvement in overall condition), then suggested we spend some time with him before discussing next steps.
A vet tech carried him into the room, wrapped in a blanket. My ex sat on the floor and gently cradled DDog in his lap.
Please stop to picture a 53-year-old man sitting cross-legged on a hard tile floor, holding up his dog's head because the dog can't hold it up himself for more than a minute or two at a time.
This was my day.
|DDog in his vibrant and happy middle age.|
We knew, in less than two minutes, that this was goodbye. Our sweet, goofy, happy boy looked so tired, and so sad. I took one last photo of him. I can't even post it here, because it breaks my heart to see his hopeless expression, so different from how we had seen him for the past 12 years.
We talked to the vet for a minute, all of us agreeing that it was best to help DDog cross the bridge.
My ex signed the paperwork. We agreed we did not want to be present for his death (oh God, the word death is making me cry). We said goodbye, we paid the bill, and we left. My ex received DDog's collar, and we will also get his pawprint and a lock of his ridiculously colored fur.
And that is that.
DDog is not the first doggo I've lost. But each one leaves its pawprints on our hearts and devastates us as if for the first time when it must leave.
His name, for those of you who don't know, was Wallingford Wellington Biscuit Dog No. Some called him Walter. We called him Wally.
I frequently called him my sweet boy.
Please please please consider a donation to the ASPCA (which is where we got him back in 2004).
They give so much in so little time.
If you have a doggo, give him/her a big hug and say "I love you, sweet thing."
You'll never regret it.