I Had to Put My Dog to Sleep
Really, I'm not. I just need to get it out. I put a pic of the old girl up on FB and got a ton of "sorry for your loss" es.....I get it, I do, and I appreciate that everyone cares. I didn't post it for they sympathy vote. I did it more as a way to get the story out. Just as I do here. I feel the need to memorialize her. Her eulogy as it were...
I know that I've been extremely lucky. Connie was a great dog. My first husband and I adopted her in 1996 about 6 months after we got married. I'd had dogs growing up, and so had he. He was doing a lot of long weekends for the Navy Reserve, and I didn't like being in the house alone at night. Our best 'couple' friends had just gotten a dog too, so maybe some peer pressure there. Oh, and we'd seen the Westminster Show not that long beforehand, so her name ended up (after a couple bottles of wine) being Lockheed Super G Constellation....'Connie' for short.
The poor thing spent a lot of lonely days in our house, and I wondered if maybe we had made a selfish decision by adopting her from the County Humane Society....
She had been found abandoned in May along the side of the road in the county, and was thought to be just under a year old. (It's 2011 now, so you do the math). She was totally house broken, and loved to just sit in the same room as me or the hubs. She's always been a wonderfully social dog. Always sweet, but with the big dog bark. I am convinced that one night while I was home alone she scared off someone that was snooping around our townhouse.
We had several family emergencies the first year we had her, so she spent far too much time being boarded at her vet. To the point that when it was time for us to move back to Chicago, they told us that if we wanted, they would keep her there as the office mascot. Even when she was being boarded, they most often had her out of her cage, and sitting behind the desk. She would just sit. She loved having the school groups come thru so she could see the kids.
Ah well, we took her with us to the big city. She was great with my first son. 1 sniff at the crib to check out the little human, and they were best buds. Nobody got by her tiny human without a thorough sniff check. To the point that she never really liked my step mother in law. Never let that woman out of her sight!
When we divorced, I got to keep Connie.
She did a long sniff check of each of my new beau's and was perfectly happy with the one that ended up becoming hubby #2. She was not allowed in the bedroom since my new spouse was mildly allergic, but slept protectively across my doorway every night until tiny human #2 came along 3 years ago. Forget the first one. This one was hers. I have great pics of my Pookie sitting in the curled up dog like she was a boppy. He never hit her or pulled her hair (but did not want you to watch while he petted her). She nuzzled him and made him laugh.
At 13, she was swarmed by a pack of yellow jackets that lived under our patio. We all thought she was a goner, and she after the first week in doggie ICU, I was ready to let her go. I took child 1 to say his goodbyes on Sat, knowing that if things did not get better on Monday, we would be helping her along to the 'happy hunting ground'. Monday morning came, and the vet called to say that she had never seen anything like Connie's turn around. She was eating, and was up and walking around.
This past year has been hard for her. Ever since the attack, she's been a little off. Her fur/shed cycle is about 4 months out of sync. About a year ago, her arthritis has gotten really bad. We started with just one drug. Then we had to add another. The we upped doses on both meds. It had gotten to the point that we woke up to a few pieces of poo on the carpet every morning. At first once in awhile, then every day. This past week, she didn't even seem to have it in her to get up to go out. We would watch her just move her tail out of the way as she laid on her side, and pooed on the floor. She would sleep 20 of 24 hours. Possibly the drugs she's been on lately....
She had trouble getting up and down the stairs. She could have just slept in the office every night, and saved herself the pain and trouble, but she still wanted to come upstairs and bed down in the hallway in front of her toddler human's room. If his door popped open, we would still find her right in front of his doorway every morning.
This past week, she would get to the landing 1/2 way down our staircase and stop, as if judging if she had it in her to get the rest of the way down or up. She would get to the last top 2 stairs, and occasionally not make it. Her back paws would slide out on the kitchen floor, and she could not get them back. One of us would have to pick up her back end and 1/2 carry her into a carpeted room. I called her clinic on Tuesday, and asked them to have her vet call back on Thursday. She did, and we discussed her condition at length.
Friday I made the final decision, and called to get an appt w/ the vet.
I cried most of the night.
When we got to the vet, I sat on the floor with the box of tissue while the tech went over the procedure with us. Even she saw that Connie was walking stiffly. She'd been going to them for over 4 years, and they had watched her slow decline. They commented on how spy she had looked just a year ago compared to the dog they saw before them yesterday. Kim pointed out that Connie was a Golden Retriever Mix, and the average life expectancy for that breed was 10-12 years. I should think about how much longer that she had had a good life. I should think about the extra 3 years that she had gotten after the wasp attack.
She reassured me that I was a good, caring, responsible pet owner in that I was going to make sure that Connie didn't get to the point that she suffered. And that if I let it go to the point that I was literally carrying her back end around, what kind of quality of life would that be for her?
Our vet is awesome. They asked if I wanted Connie to have a treat when she got back from having her IV cath put in. I told them 'sure'. I wondered if she could have chocolate. I confessed that I had given her 2 full Rymadyl (her dose is 1.5, more usually does liver damage). I figured, what's the worst that can happen with that? And we all had a little chuckle.
Connie came back and got to have her chocolate ice cream. How cool that the vet keeps ice cream as a kind of 'last meal' for the animals that are going to be euthenized?
*Warning for those faint of heart* stop reading now.
They did walk us thru the procedure. They did tell us that the animal is essentially getting an overdose of an anesthetic. It's a barbituate, the initial 'hit' if you will, is the dog getting high. They sometimes have weird reactions. Some dogs will howl, cause dogs don't get high the same way that people do.
Dr. N got about 1/2 the dose in and Connie turned and bit me. She didn't break the skin, but she did leave 3 tooth impressions on my arm. One is still bruised today. I prefer to think that she was pissed because we had picked up her front paw. She had no hip strength left, so her front paws were her source of stability. I like to believe that she was angry that we had taken the one source of her precarious balance. My spouse is convinced that that is the case. At least that's what he's telling me, and he was there to see it.
In the end, I got that arm under her neck and the other one around her body. I was able to softly pull her onto my lap before the second half of the syringe was even moved. She died in my arms, and I sobbed in her fur.
When I had wiped my eyes and nose for the millionth time, Dr. N asked to see where Connie had gotten my arm. She just wanted to make sure that the skin wasn't broken. She was truly shocked that Connie had done that, but when hubby explained about her precarious balance, the Dr. agreed that it was likely the case that she was merely looking at staying upright along with being quite high.
We were able to stay with her as long as we wanted in the room. We had already been thru the paperwork, and had declined to keep her ashes. I know which cemetary they will be scattered at....I was surprised to learn that you can have them turned into a diamond if you'd like.
I got hugs from everyone when I was ready to go. We donated some of her items to the no kill shelter that the clinic is associated with. I think that helps. We will likely donate more as they come up. Knowing that some of her things will go on to other animals that don't yet have a good family.
I know this will get better, but I am surprised at how much I miss her. How odd the house feels. How I find myself looking to make sure that I'm not stepping on her. Thinking that I need to let her out before we go to the store. Wondering why she's not there when we get back.
I'm still crying a bunch...when I hope that it was quick and painless. When I hope I made the right choice, and that she didn't have another year in her. When I think about how surprisingly light her head was in my lap as her empty eyes stared off at the wall. When I wonder why it's ok to put your pet out of their misery, but not your suffering human family member.
I don't kid myself. I believe that she was beginning to suffer. I would see her looking at me sometimes when she'd get stuck on the stairs. It was somewhere between 'are you laughing at me? Seriously 2 legger, get your fat *** down here to pick me up' and 'Don't look lady. I'm not sure what's wrong, but give me a minute.'
I wonder too if I am having a harder time with it because I have no 'faith' to speak of. I don't have the certain knowledge that God picked her up late Saturday morning and said, "Connie, you're going to love it here. We've got wall to wall squirrels, and all the chocolate that you want. When it's mommy's turn, you'll be right here waiting for her, and you can show her around." Or that she's been reincarnated as a higher life form. Or that her spirit is haunting the crap out of whoever abandoned her on that roadside in Champaign County.
I hope she's happy. I hope that she doesn't hate me for not letting her get so bad that she was in constant pain.
I hope that she's looking at me saying, "I'm glad you miss me, but seriously. Stop the blubbering. The kids were great, go play with them. I'm glad you picked me out of all the dogs in the shelter. It was a good life....maybe not enough steak scraps, but that's ok. You fed me, you petted me and you loved me. I love you, and I will be waiting for you when you get here. Now stop crying and go to bed."
I know that I've been extremely lucky. Connie was a great dog. My first husband and I adopted her in 1996 about 6 months after we got married. I'd had dogs growing up, and so had he. He was doing a lot of long weekends for the Navy Reserve, and I didn't like being in the house alone at night. Our best 'couple' friends had just gotten a dog too, so maybe some peer pressure there. Oh, and we'd seen the Westminster Show not that long beforehand, so her name ended up (after a couple bottles of wine) being Lockheed Super G Constellation....'Connie' for short.
The poor thing spent a lot of lonely days in our house, and I wondered if maybe we had made a selfish decision by adopting her from the County Humane Society....
She had been found abandoned in May along the side of the road in the county, and was thought to be just under a year old. (It's 2011 now, so you do the math). She was totally house broken, and loved to just sit in the same room as me or the hubs. She's always been a wonderfully social dog. Always sweet, but with the big dog bark. I am convinced that one night while I was home alone she scared off someone that was snooping around our townhouse.
We had several family emergencies the first year we had her, so she spent far too much time being boarded at her vet. To the point that when it was time for us to move back to Chicago, they told us that if we wanted, they would keep her there as the office mascot. Even when she was being boarded, they most often had her out of her cage, and sitting behind the desk. She would just sit. She loved having the school groups come thru so she could see the kids.
Ah well, we took her with us to the big city. She was great with my first son. 1 sniff at the crib to check out the little human, and they were best buds. Nobody got by her tiny human without a thorough sniff check. To the point that she never really liked my step mother in law. Never let that woman out of her sight!
When we divorced, I got to keep Connie.
She did a long sniff check of each of my new beau's and was perfectly happy with the one that ended up becoming hubby #2. She was not allowed in the bedroom since my new spouse was mildly allergic, but slept protectively across my doorway every night until tiny human #2 came along 3 years ago. Forget the first one. This one was hers. I have great pics of my Pookie sitting in the curled up dog like she was a boppy. He never hit her or pulled her hair (but did not want you to watch while he petted her). She nuzzled him and made him laugh.
At 13, she was swarmed by a pack of yellow jackets that lived under our patio. We all thought she was a goner, and she after the first week in doggie ICU, I was ready to let her go. I took child 1 to say his goodbyes on Sat, knowing that if things did not get better on Monday, we would be helping her along to the 'happy hunting ground'. Monday morning came, and the vet called to say that she had never seen anything like Connie's turn around. She was eating, and was up and walking around.
This past year has been hard for her. Ever since the attack, she's been a little off. Her fur/shed cycle is about 4 months out of sync. About a year ago, her arthritis has gotten really bad. We started with just one drug. Then we had to add another. The we upped doses on both meds. It had gotten to the point that we woke up to a few pieces of poo on the carpet every morning. At first once in awhile, then every day. This past week, she didn't even seem to have it in her to get up to go out. We would watch her just move her tail out of the way as she laid on her side, and pooed on the floor. She would sleep 20 of 24 hours. Possibly the drugs she's been on lately....
She had trouble getting up and down the stairs. She could have just slept in the office every night, and saved herself the pain and trouble, but she still wanted to come upstairs and bed down in the hallway in front of her toddler human's room. If his door popped open, we would still find her right in front of his doorway every morning.
This past week, she would get to the landing 1/2 way down our staircase and stop, as if judging if she had it in her to get the rest of the way down or up. She would get to the last top 2 stairs, and occasionally not make it. Her back paws would slide out on the kitchen floor, and she could not get them back. One of us would have to pick up her back end and 1/2 carry her into a carpeted room. I called her clinic on Tuesday, and asked them to have her vet call back on Thursday. She did, and we discussed her condition at length.
Friday I made the final decision, and called to get an appt w/ the vet.
I cried most of the night.
When we got to the vet, I sat on the floor with the box of tissue while the tech went over the procedure with us. Even she saw that Connie was walking stiffly. She'd been going to them for over 4 years, and they had watched her slow decline. They commented on how spy she had looked just a year ago compared to the dog they saw before them yesterday. Kim pointed out that Connie was a Golden Retriever Mix, and the average life expectancy for that breed was 10-12 years. I should think about how much longer that she had had a good life. I should think about the extra 3 years that she had gotten after the wasp attack.
She reassured me that I was a good, caring, responsible pet owner in that I was going to make sure that Connie didn't get to the point that she suffered. And that if I let it go to the point that I was literally carrying her back end around, what kind of quality of life would that be for her?
Our vet is awesome. They asked if I wanted Connie to have a treat when she got back from having her IV cath put in. I told them 'sure'. I wondered if she could have chocolate. I confessed that I had given her 2 full Rymadyl (her dose is 1.5, more usually does liver damage). I figured, what's the worst that can happen with that? And we all had a little chuckle.
Connie came back and got to have her chocolate ice cream. How cool that the vet keeps ice cream as a kind of 'last meal' for the animals that are going to be euthenized?
*Warning for those faint of heart* stop reading now.
They did walk us thru the procedure. They did tell us that the animal is essentially getting an overdose of an anesthetic. It's a barbituate, the initial 'hit' if you will, is the dog getting high. They sometimes have weird reactions. Some dogs will howl, cause dogs don't get high the same way that people do.
Dr. N got about 1/2 the dose in and Connie turned and bit me. She didn't break the skin, but she did leave 3 tooth impressions on my arm. One is still bruised today. I prefer to think that she was pissed because we had picked up her front paw. She had no hip strength left, so her front paws were her source of stability. I like to believe that she was angry that we had taken the one source of her precarious balance. My spouse is convinced that that is the case. At least that's what he's telling me, and he was there to see it.
In the end, I got that arm under her neck and the other one around her body. I was able to softly pull her onto my lap before the second half of the syringe was even moved. She died in my arms, and I sobbed in her fur.
When I had wiped my eyes and nose for the millionth time, Dr. N asked to see where Connie had gotten my arm. She just wanted to make sure that the skin wasn't broken. She was truly shocked that Connie had done that, but when hubby explained about her precarious balance, the Dr. agreed that it was likely the case that she was merely looking at staying upright along with being quite high.
We were able to stay with her as long as we wanted in the room. We had already been thru the paperwork, and had declined to keep her ashes. I know which cemetary they will be scattered at....I was surprised to learn that you can have them turned into a diamond if you'd like.
I got hugs from everyone when I was ready to go. We donated some of her items to the no kill shelter that the clinic is associated with. I think that helps. We will likely donate more as they come up. Knowing that some of her things will go on to other animals that don't yet have a good family.
I know this will get better, but I am surprised at how much I miss her. How odd the house feels. How I find myself looking to make sure that I'm not stepping on her. Thinking that I need to let her out before we go to the store. Wondering why she's not there when we get back.
I'm still crying a bunch...when I hope that it was quick and painless. When I hope I made the right choice, and that she didn't have another year in her. When I think about how surprisingly light her head was in my lap as her empty eyes stared off at the wall. When I wonder why it's ok to put your pet out of their misery, but not your suffering human family member.
I don't kid myself. I believe that she was beginning to suffer. I would see her looking at me sometimes when she'd get stuck on the stairs. It was somewhere between 'are you laughing at me? Seriously 2 legger, get your fat *** down here to pick me up' and 'Don't look lady. I'm not sure what's wrong, but give me a minute.'
I wonder too if I am having a harder time with it because I have no 'faith' to speak of. I don't have the certain knowledge that God picked her up late Saturday morning and said, "Connie, you're going to love it here. We've got wall to wall squirrels, and all the chocolate that you want. When it's mommy's turn, you'll be right here waiting for her, and you can show her around." Or that she's been reincarnated as a higher life form. Or that her spirit is haunting the crap out of whoever abandoned her on that roadside in Champaign County.
I hope she's happy. I hope that she doesn't hate me for not letting her get so bad that she was in constant pain.
I hope that she's looking at me saying, "I'm glad you miss me, but seriously. Stop the blubbering. The kids were great, go play with them. I'm glad you picked me out of all the dogs in the shelter. It was a good life....maybe not enough steak scraps, but that's ok. You fed me, you petted me and you loved me. I love you, and I will be waiting for you when you get here. Now stop crying and go to bed."
By:
pilotjess
Age:
36-40
,
Female
