That doesn’t sound right. I’ve spent more quality time with her than anyone but my wife–and that’s actually debateable. Long hikes, scritches, medical care. Darn dogs.
Aww, Maggie looks so much like my son’s dog Delaney, such a sweet face and I know you’re going to miss her fiercely. Don’t feel bad about looking around at other doggos though because one of the great things a good dog does for us is that when they go they leave a perfect spot for another good dog to come in and take over their job of keeping the humans happy and loved. I tend to adopt another dog when I know time is short for one of my critters, purely to cushion the inevitable blow. when the time comes for them to say goodbye.
You did the right thing, you listened to your good dog and helped her along with love and care (and so, so many tears) which is part of our responsibility to them. When balanced against the love and joy they give us every day of their regrettably short lives the hard job of letting them go is a small price to pay. You did well and you did good, I’m sending along my peaceful thoughts to you and your family.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
A dog will dig its way into your heart and will claw it out when it leaves.
What a cartoon. It touched me. I’ve never had a dog, but it took me back to when my son died.
Another:
Thanks you all. Crying again.
Still another:
Thanks to all the Dopers so much. This thread really helped. Still a little weepy but hopefully going to meet the new little dude this weekend, and remembering Mags and loving her so much. Still didn’t sleep worth shit last night, though…
**WARNING! This short story makes me cry every time.**
The last thing I remember is My Person bringing me to the Sharp Place.
I never understood why My Person would bring me to the Sharp Place. The smells were sharp, and they poked me with sharp things. That’s why I called it the Sharp Place. It was a bad place. I didn’t like it.
I don’t know why My Person brought me there, that day of all days. I already hadn’t been feeling good. I’d been throwing up, and my hips hurt and my paws hurt. Even eating grass didn’t help. And then My Person brought me to the Sharp Place. I tried to be mad at him, but he seemed so sad about something, so I tried to wag my tail to cheer him up. I didn’t even really notice when the Sharp Man poked me.
Then my eyes got heavy and that was the last thing I remember.
Buddy, a voice said. Buddy, wake up.
I opened my eyes and got to my feet, and I realized my paws didn’t hurt anymore. I tried a wag, and that was fine, too. I sniffed the air. It smelled like the Play Park and like Our Home and the Car Window. I liked it a lot.
Welcome, Buddy, came the voice again, from behind me.
I turned around, and there was a person there. He wasn’t My Person, but he was all safe and good smells, so I trusted him.
Where am I? I said.
You’re in the place that Good Boys go, the person said.
I was a Good Boy? I said.
You were a Very Good Boy, he told me.
That was good. I always tried to be a Good Boy. Where’s My Person? I asked.
He’s still down there, the person said. And he waved his arm and all of a sudden we were in Our Home, and My Person was sitting on the Forbidden Chair and looking sad. Every so often, he’d look over at the Okay Couch, where I was allowed so sit, and his breath would catch because he was very sad. I tried to nuzzle him, but my nose just passed through his hand.
What’s happening? I don’t understand, I said.
The person sighed. You can’t be with him right now, Buddy. I’m sorry. It’s the way of things.
I thought about this. So it’s like My Person is on the Person Bed, and I’m not allowed there? I said.
Exactly like that, the person said. But he can be with you someday. If you choose to wait for him.
Of course I want to wait for him! I said. Not wait for My Person? Who did this person think he was talking to?
Hold on, Buddy, the person said. He seemed sad about this for some reason. It’s not that simple. You have a choice. He got down on one knee and he looked into my eyes. There are bad things in this world, Buddy. Very bad things.
Like Neighbor Cat?
So much worse than her, Buddy. He waved his hand, and I saw what he was talking about. He showed me dark things, that were like snakes and rats, only worse. Worse than the Sucking Machine. Worse than the Sharp Place. They smelled evil.
These are the things that want to hurt him, Buddy. They want to hurt everybody. So you can wait for him, or you can keep him safe. But if you choose to keep him safe, then you can’t see him again.
What, never? I said.
The person nodded. Never, Buddy. I’m sorry. Those are the Rules. It’s a terrible choice.
I looked at my paws. I didn’t want to not see My Person ever again. But I wanted to keep him safe even more.
I know what I have to do, I said, and the person waved his hand, and all of a sudden we were in a place with there were as many dogs as I have every seen before. More, even.
These are all the Good Boys who chose to keep Their People safe, the person said.
I looked at them all. I couldn’t believe it, still. But there’s so many of us! I said. How many Good Boys are here?
The person looked down at me. He smiled, but I could tell he was also partly very sad. All of you, Buddy. Every single one.
–Euthenios, Reddit thread on r/WritingPrompts``
It did me, also.
Yeah. When we had to put one of ours down in July, I commented about a week after, “There’s a dog-sized hole in the living room.”
Yeah–we filled the hole yesterday with the little guy posted above–now named Lucas (formerly “Bubble Boy”). He was the leader of a semi-feral pack of 50 on the Flathead Reservation. Total sweetie and settling in. We may adopt one of his pack-mates, too, since he’s very social with other dogs…
Bubble Boy?!
De gustibus, right? About 35#, slick coat, going to need booties when it’s below 10F despite living in the wild in NW MT.
Seems like a good idea. Bet they’d be glad to see each other.
Do the people you got him from know who among the pack he seemed particularly close to?
We’ll see. He is very distraught right now. Either there’s a sound in the house that’s driving him nuts, or he really needs another dog around. When we take him out, he’s fine.
Struggling with the new dog. He’s cute, gentle, and sweet when he wants to be, but he’s very spooky. A new experience throws him for a loop. He’s alternately cuddly with me (male, large) and scared. He’s got serious separation anxiety from my wife. We’re working with a trainer, but I hate to say it, it needs to turn around soon. It kills me to think about turning my back on a rescue pup, but this is supposed to be fun. I want to play, and that’s not in his book right now. Going to bring in a chill dog with the trainer and see if she can model some behavior for him. Sigh.
Were you considering getting also one of his old pack-mates? Might that make him more confident?