Tomorrow, Tuesday Dec. 14,we are putting my dog Beethoven to sleep. He is suffering from acute renal failure and a weekend in the hospital on fluids did nothing to decrease his creatine levels. He is not eating or drinking and when he does try to drink water, he vomits it up almost immediately.
When I picked him up from the animal hospital this morning, he wagged his tail when he saw me, but he had little energy left to do anything else and could barely get in the car.
It hurts like hell to do this. But I know this is the best thing for him. For the past eight years he has been my constant companion. I will miss him very much.
While my brother was loosing his battle with cancer, I made many drives from Cleveland to Chicago to visit him. The dog was with me and was there to listen to me as I cried for my brother and came to terms with his eventual death. The dog knew the route from Cleveland to Chicago and back again, almost as well as I did. He had his favorite rest stops on the route, the ones where he liked to poop and stretch his legs. In the nine months from my brother’s diagnosis to his death, we probably made that six hour each way drive 20 times. Some of those trips were twelve hours in the car for 24 hours in Chicago. He would just settle in for the drive, and when he couldn’t stand listening to me sing anymore, he would sleep.
When we would go up to the summer home, he would run around off his leash. It was the only place he was allowed to be leashless. He loved chasing squirrels, and even though he never caught one, he loved the chase. He would be on the porch, relaxing in the shade, just watching, and then, without warning, he would bolt off the porch and run faster than you would think he could. The squirrels were always faster, but he kept on trying. Even on Saturday morning before he went into the hospital, we were out for a walk and he was pulling on the lease to get at a squirrel. Today, he didn’t have the strength to even look at a squirrel.
I will miss the dopey look on his face, the way he would wag that tail when I would come through the door, the dance he would do when I would say “Wanna go for a walk?” and mostly his soft snoring during the night that let me know all was right with my world even when things were at their shittiest.
Thanks for everything bey-bey. I love you and will miss you very much. Be at peace.