I’d have covered my little pooch with smooches from nose to tail. But he couldn’t be cured and he was suffering and y’all know the rest.
He was 13, a rescue, Westie/Min. Poodle mix, deaf, mostly blind, and those things were easily dealth with. But chronic health problems were worsening, and he was in pain.
Did the best I could, although I’m in the kicking myself for not noticing phase just now. So many little “things” that individually signalled nothing but put together made a decision for euthanasia the only compassionate decision to make.
Here’s a link for his pic, I hope.
20# of white fuzzyness, a little ambulatory snowball in the winter. Dogless walks really aren’t worth taking.
I send you a hug. My Dog of Dogs died 10 years ago this past February. That’s by the calendar. By the pain still in my heart, she died yesterday.
If the Rainbow Bridge doesn’t exist, I’m going to be really pissed.
ZipperJJ, thank you for your kind words. I don’t have a picture of him in full fuzz, alas. That’s when the Terrier coat took over from the Poodle coat. Couldn’t hardly even see his feet.
Despite his infirmities, he was the sweetest little guy. He was a senior dog when I adopted him, so I knew I wouldn’t have him for long. Three years went by so quickly.
Many thanks for your kind words. Dopers are the best.
The really hard part was deciding whether or not to be there with him at the end. I wasn’t – he was still at the clinic and I was home when I made my decision – and that will haunt me, but I needed to remember him alive, not crumpled up on the exam table. I was there for all the others, but this time I just couldn’t do it. I wish I could cry, but these damned bipolar meds won’t let me.
What a beautiful sweet dog, and what a great owner. Thank you for giving him the life he deserved all along, and having the courage and love to set him free. Love to you.
