I love my dogs. Honestly, I love my dogs more than almost anyone on the planet. In fact, if you catch me on the right day, I love my dogs more than ANYONE on the planet. I can't believe that I have to say goodbye to him.
I called the vet yesterday to "schedule" his appointment (bullshit, anyone else agree?). She then discussed with me the "procedure" and our "options" afterwards. Our "options" include the following
- Do we want to stay with him while he is injected with lethal poison?
- Do we want to take his body home to bury?
- Do we want to pay extra to have him cremated and bring his ashes home?
These are horrible "options" I would like my options to include the following:
- Give me medicine that f'ing helps my dog.
- Fix him.
- Seriously, I've paid you about 3500 dollars this year, fix my dog.
I don't want my dog to die. I really don't. I wish that I wasn't so poor and I could have afforded the more expensive treatment options in the beginning.
I hate being poor.
Oliver-I love your guts. You will always be my dog, I'm happy that I could give you a home for the last year of your life that was filled with love, hugs, kisses and a big yard that you could smell in for hours and hours. I will miss your crazy, loud, obnoxious bark and I will miss your floppy ears and I will even miss your stinky breath. I love you, Bubba. I'll see you when I get up there!
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, 'I know why.'
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
He said, 'People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life - - like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?' The six-year-old continued, 'Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.'
This is a poem that Jimmy Stewart wrote years ago and read it on the Johnny Carson show. If this doesn't hit home nothing will.
My dog, named Bo
He came to me when I would call,
unless I had a tennis ball
-or he felt like it.
But mostly--he didn't come at all.
When he was young,
he never learned,
to heel, or sit or stay,
he did things his way.
Discipline was not his bag,
but when you were with him,
things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rose bush just to spite me,
and when I'd grab 'im he'd turn and bite me.
He bit lots of folks from day to day,
the deliv'ry boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
he said we owned a real man-eater.
He sat the house on fire,
but the story's long to tell.
Suffice to say that he survived,
and, the house survived as well.
And on evening walks
(and Gloria took him),
he was always first out the door.
The old one and I,
brought up the rear
because our bones were sore.
And he'd charge up the street
with Mom hangin' on,
what a beautiful pair they were.
And if it was still light,
and the tourists were out,
they created a bit of a stir!
But every once in awhile
he'd stop in his tracks
and with a frown on his face, look around.
It was just t'make sure,
that the old one was there,
to follow him where he was bound.
We're early-to-bedders in our house
I guess I'm the first to retire,
and as I'd leave the room, he'd look at me
and get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were, upstairs
and I'd give 'im one for awhile
and he'd push it under the bed with his nose
and I'd dig it out with a smile.
But before very long, he'd tire of the ball
and he'd be asleep in his corner in no time at all,
and there where nights when I'd feel him climb up on our bed
and lie between us, and I'd pat his head;
and there were nights when I'd feel this stare,
and I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
and I'd reach out to stroke his hair;
and sometimes I'd feel him sigh,
and I think I know the reason why.
He'd wake up at night,
and he would have this fear
of the dark, of life, of lot's of things,
and he'd be glad to have me near.
And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
climb up on our bed,
and lie between us, and I pat his head;
and there are nights when I think I feel that stare,
and I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
and he's not there.
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Bo.
“A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.”
“The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too.”
“A dog doesn't care if you're rich or poor, big or small, young or old. He doesn't care if you're not smart, not popular, not a good joke-teller, not the best athlete, nor the best-looking person. To your dog, you are the greatest, the smartest, the nicest human being who was ever born. You are his friend and protector.”
“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”
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