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lillianaZ
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People are horrible. Dogs are awesome.
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This thread is going to the dogs...
- Thread starter Shankara20
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lillianaZ
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Well, I did it. I'm crying, but I did it.
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lillianaZ
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......
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Ed27R
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Yeah. It is just one of those crappy decisions you have to make as a pet owner. Doesn’t make you feel better or it any easier - it just hurts. *hugs* for what it is worth I think you can give yourself a pass on feeling like a murderer. I wish you luck in finding the words!
Shankara20
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lillianaZ
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Yup, generally....
((heart
Thank you, Shankie! You've been missed lately.
*hugs back*
Lilli
Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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Thanks - I have a very sick family member in ICU 3 1/2 hours away. These last three weeks have been a little hectic. She has improved slightly. Time and the magic of modern medicine will tell...
Shankara20
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Way, way back when I first got my little sister, Mom being the genius she was also got me a puppy. A little black cocker spaniel that for reasons that completely escape me I named "Sugar." Well, for reasons already discussed elsewhere (as much as I'm gonna in open forum), for a long time I was only allowed to go out in the backyard and play with Sugar. In every way that counted, she was my only real friend for years.
Along the way, Sugar had her share of problems and more. Cancer. Heartworms. She even had a wound on her back at one point that flies had laid maggots in that had to be surgically fixed. Mom had her put to sleep when I was... I don't remember for sure exactly what age. But, I know I was already wrestling with death between losing my first grandfather and the old couple that I stayed with before I started to school (pretty sure I mentioned the one-legged carpenter somewhere around here) within about three months. I don't know that it was the best idea, but Mom decided to bury Sugar beneath my bedroom window and plant... honeysuckle, I think. I couldn't take part. I just couldn't. I sat in my bedroom and cried while I listened to her digging right outside my window. But, it ever after meant something to me to know that my first best friend was right outside my window. And I always thought the plant was the most beautiful I'd ever seen.
Yeah, there is more than one reason "Where the Red Fern Grows" still makes me tear up.
Even before Sugar was put to sleep, Rowdy had come into our lives.
Rowdy was... I've never been really clear. But, I'm pretty sure Mom knew Sugar wasn't going to be around much longer, so she made arrangements with my best friend's Dad... the ex-marine DI turned Baptist Minister (and we did NOT see the same side of him on Saturday night he displayed on Sunday morning, let me tell you!)... to gift me with one of the puppies their dog was always having. Looking back, I feel sorry for Rowdy. He came along at really the worst time in my life that a puppy could have. My adolescence. To a large extent, other than making sure he had food and water, he was pretty much all but forgotten out in the backyard while I was hustling around doing my school and church stuff and was hardly ever home except to try to get a little sleep and shower. Then college and Mom had to take over even his feeding.
He formed a tumor on the back of his neck and shoulder that was really more of a fluid cyst that just got bigger and bigger over the years until it was about half the size of his head. And despite always having only the best food, he would not eat and was little more than skin over bones his entire life. Don't even get me started on his teeth that were snaggled and would get caught in his fur. Those friends tried to say their dog, and Rowdy, were Pomeranians. But, the thing is, I know dogs. I mean, I was seriously a dog nerd. And I even took my dog encyclopedia to them and showed them the picture of a Tibetan Spaniel and dared them to tell me Rowdy couldn't have posed for it.
When I moved off to chase a career, I don't really remember whose idea it was. Mom was working on what would become her second failed marriage and asswipe had a whole pack of Shelties. Any road, I took Rowdy back to live with me. Which was a mistake since he'd only ever been an outside dog for about a decade and I was living in a little back house with no yard and working two jobs. If there was a single place in that house he didn't hike his leg, I don't know where it would have been.
But, sadly, Rowdy and I just never had the real connection that I'd had with Sugar. Which was my fault because I just never spent the time with him that I did with her except for those months he lived inside with me at that little house. I loved him and he loved me. But, we just didn't have that same... whatever. So, when I moved back, and basically ended Mom's second marriage because I wasn't going to put up with dickweed being a lazy motherfucker and not working and then abusing Mom emotionally on top of it. When Love followed me, and I moved in with her, I left Rowdy with Mom.
I don't really remember just where she came from, I think from dickweed who was trying to worm his way back in with me no longer actually living IN the house. But, a Spitz showed up from somewhere. A female Spitz. With rather obvious results.
And, yes, I laughed my ass off when I saw them at it and she was having to lie on her belly for him to reach high enough to get the job done.
Well, Love and I were living together. But, I was working and working on my Master's. She was working on her Bachelor's and not working. And pretty much was alone in that little apartment most of the time and when I was home, I was typically sleeping off my 250mg of Elavil. So, Mom gave her one of the puppies which was marked just like Rowdy but built like a miniature version of Sheba.
Now the thing is, in addition to being a bit of a dog nerd, I've always had something of an affinity for dogs. Dogs that no one else can seem to get along with will take a shine to me more often than not for some reason.
But, I was bound and determined that Little Bit was going to be Love's dog. Not mine.
And I was mostly successful. For the most part, if Love was home, Little Bit was going to be her shadow. And she very rarely had anything to do with me. Very rarely. Unless she was hurt or sick. Then she would come straight to me and want me to hold her about like a toddler, with her paws around my neck and her head over my shoulder or tucked under my chin. I should probably mention here that Little Bit and her littermates were born in pile of my laundry in the garage one cold night.
And then, shit got real!
As I said, I had left Rowdy with Mom. Well, when she moved to join me, Love had left behind an Apricot Pekapoo, Precious. And somehow, and I'm really not sure how, both of 'em ended up coming to live with us within the same month!
Holy shit!
Literally!
Taking them out to do their business was a chore as whichever one of us was on puppy poopy patrol had to juggle three leashes, a pooper scooper, and a baggie.
I can remember one particular day, I was the lucky one. And a pickup rolled by with a German Shephard in the back and he barked. And each of our three reacted according to their natures.
Rowdy, thinking his tiny little ass was Alpha, bowed up and came trotting from the other side of me to let the interloper know this was his yard.
Little Bit, being definitely Beta, tried to run behind me and hide.
I did mention retractable leashes, right? Hold that thought.
Precious had finally set aside her copy of Dog World and found the perfect blade of grass and was in mid-release of something that should have required Class III hazmat if we were technical about it.
Well, the leashes had somehow managed to get wrapped around my legs, as well as around Precious' leash, and tugged at both of us. Just as I was bending down to scoop up a deposit either the coward or the bully had left while the little old lady was finding her perfect blade of grass. I was already off balance and trying to pull my left leg up out of the leash web, when Precious yanked like the sour dispositioned old lady she was.
And down I went.
I'll leave your imagination to fill in the rest since I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
Any road, Rowdy didn't stay with us all the time. As I say, he was really an outside dog for 90% of his life and just didn't transition well inside. So, he was with Mom when I got a call one day that it was time. And gave the go-ahead to have little man set out of his misery.
Precious, we reached that point before Rowdy, I think. I want to say she was already sixteen and only had two teeth in her head (and those didn't meet) when she and I were introduced. And she lived with us for a few years before I had to make the call. The funny thing was, that she was Love's dog for a decade and a half before I ever entered the picture. But, I was the one that when I was picking up the food and water dish ended up sitting on my ass with my back against the wall, bawling my eyes out.
We should have put Little Bit to sleep. I can see that now. Her mind was gone and she was in a lot of pain. But... well, it was after we'd both become disabled and money was tight. Actually non-existent. We didn't have food, much less money for a vet. And we'd just pawned our wedding rings for me to buy a bus ticket to see my mother in the hospital for what turned out to be the last time.
Mom died in the hospital from Lymphoma. And I was told her organs had started shutting down, but that was all. So, I had a very vivid imagining of what that must have been like. And a week after Mom died, Little Bit started shutting down. Until the day I die, I will remember holding that little puppy that was born in my clothes, surrounded by my scent, puking up bile in my arms as her heart and lungs labored. And thinking that this is what it must have been like for Mom.
Despite already struggling to get the trash to the dumpster, that night I went out into the backyard and dug a hole for that pretty little puppy with tears and snot running down my face.
About a week later, a friend found us burrowed under blankets with no heat, no light, no food, a big foreclosure notice on the front door... And took us back to stay with them.
One month after Mom died, three weeks after I held Little Bit in her death throes, that friend opened the front door and said, "Look what I found."
And a little puppy that I could tell at a glance wasn't ready to be off the tit came limping inside, straight over to me, and couldn't have said any louder if she'd been able to speak, "this is who I came for." Well, I fought it tooth and nail, but I've already told some of that story elsewhere and that isn't really what this was about.
I don't know, LillianaZ. I've had dogs put to sleep and dogs that I held until they died on their own. Both had their own struggle and haunting for me. Still haunt me from time to time.
Any road, I guess my long-winded point is that I feel for what you are feeling, even though I obviously can't know exactly what that is. And I send warm fuzzy virtual hugs for anyone struggling with the pain of losing such a good friend.
Along the way, Sugar had her share of problems and more. Cancer. Heartworms. She even had a wound on her back at one point that flies had laid maggots in that had to be surgically fixed. Mom had her put to sleep when I was... I don't remember for sure exactly what age. But, I know I was already wrestling with death between losing my first grandfather and the old couple that I stayed with before I started to school (pretty sure I mentioned the one-legged carpenter somewhere around here) within about three months. I don't know that it was the best idea, but Mom decided to bury Sugar beneath my bedroom window and plant... honeysuckle, I think. I couldn't take part. I just couldn't. I sat in my bedroom and cried while I listened to her digging right outside my window. But, it ever after meant something to me to know that my first best friend was right outside my window. And I always thought the plant was the most beautiful I'd ever seen.
Yeah, there is more than one reason "Where the Red Fern Grows" still makes me tear up.
Even before Sugar was put to sleep, Rowdy had come into our lives.
Rowdy was... I've never been really clear. But, I'm pretty sure Mom knew Sugar wasn't going to be around much longer, so she made arrangements with my best friend's Dad... the ex-marine DI turned Baptist Minister (and we did NOT see the same side of him on Saturday night he displayed on Sunday morning, let me tell you!)... to gift me with one of the puppies their dog was always having. Looking back, I feel sorry for Rowdy. He came along at really the worst time in my life that a puppy could have. My adolescence. To a large extent, other than making sure he had food and water, he was pretty much all but forgotten out in the backyard while I was hustling around doing my school and church stuff and was hardly ever home except to try to get a little sleep and shower. Then college and Mom had to take over even his feeding.
He formed a tumor on the back of his neck and shoulder that was really more of a fluid cyst that just got bigger and bigger over the years until it was about half the size of his head. And despite always having only the best food, he would not eat and was little more than skin over bones his entire life. Don't even get me started on his teeth that were snaggled and would get caught in his fur. Those friends tried to say their dog, and Rowdy, were Pomeranians. But, the thing is, I know dogs. I mean, I was seriously a dog nerd. And I even took my dog encyclopedia to them and showed them the picture of a Tibetan Spaniel and dared them to tell me Rowdy couldn't have posed for it.
When I moved off to chase a career, I don't really remember whose idea it was. Mom was working on what would become her second failed marriage and asswipe had a whole pack of Shelties. Any road, I took Rowdy back to live with me. Which was a mistake since he'd only ever been an outside dog for about a decade and I was living in a little back house with no yard and working two jobs. If there was a single place in that house he didn't hike his leg, I don't know where it would have been.
But, sadly, Rowdy and I just never had the real connection that I'd had with Sugar. Which was my fault because I just never spent the time with him that I did with her except for those months he lived inside with me at that little house. I loved him and he loved me. But, we just didn't have that same... whatever. So, when I moved back, and basically ended Mom's second marriage because I wasn't going to put up with dickweed being a lazy motherfucker and not working and then abusing Mom emotionally on top of it. When Love followed me, and I moved in with her, I left Rowdy with Mom.
I don't really remember just where she came from, I think from dickweed who was trying to worm his way back in with me no longer actually living IN the house. But, a Spitz showed up from somewhere. A female Spitz. With rather obvious results.
And, yes, I laughed my ass off when I saw them at it and she was having to lie on her belly for him to reach high enough to get the job done.
Well, Love and I were living together. But, I was working and working on my Master's. She was working on her Bachelor's and not working. And pretty much was alone in that little apartment most of the time and when I was home, I was typically sleeping off my 250mg of Elavil. So, Mom gave her one of the puppies which was marked just like Rowdy but built like a miniature version of Sheba.
Now the thing is, in addition to being a bit of a dog nerd, I've always had something of an affinity for dogs. Dogs that no one else can seem to get along with will take a shine to me more often than not for some reason.
But, I was bound and determined that Little Bit was going to be Love's dog. Not mine.
And I was mostly successful. For the most part, if Love was home, Little Bit was going to be her shadow. And she very rarely had anything to do with me. Very rarely. Unless she was hurt or sick. Then she would come straight to me and want me to hold her about like a toddler, with her paws around my neck and her head over my shoulder or tucked under my chin. I should probably mention here that Little Bit and her littermates were born in pile of my laundry in the garage one cold night.
And then, shit got real!
As I said, I had left Rowdy with Mom. Well, when she moved to join me, Love had left behind an Apricot Pekapoo, Precious. And somehow, and I'm really not sure how, both of 'em ended up coming to live with us within the same month!
Holy shit!
Literally!
Taking them out to do their business was a chore as whichever one of us was on puppy poopy patrol had to juggle three leashes, a pooper scooper, and a baggie.
I can remember one particular day, I was the lucky one. And a pickup rolled by with a German Shephard in the back and he barked. And each of our three reacted according to their natures.
Rowdy, thinking his tiny little ass was Alpha, bowed up and came trotting from the other side of me to let the interloper know this was his yard.
Little Bit, being definitely Beta, tried to run behind me and hide.
I did mention retractable leashes, right? Hold that thought.
Precious had finally set aside her copy of Dog World and found the perfect blade of grass and was in mid-release of something that should have required Class III hazmat if we were technical about it.
Well, the leashes had somehow managed to get wrapped around my legs, as well as around Precious' leash, and tugged at both of us. Just as I was bending down to scoop up a deposit either the coward or the bully had left while the little old lady was finding her perfect blade of grass. I was already off balance and trying to pull my left leg up out of the leash web, when Precious yanked like the sour dispositioned old lady she was.
And down I went.
I'll leave your imagination to fill in the rest since I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
Any road, Rowdy didn't stay with us all the time. As I say, he was really an outside dog for 90% of his life and just didn't transition well inside. So, he was with Mom when I got a call one day that it was time. And gave the go-ahead to have little man set out of his misery.
Precious, we reached that point before Rowdy, I think. I want to say she was already sixteen and only had two teeth in her head (and those didn't meet) when she and I were introduced. And she lived with us for a few years before I had to make the call. The funny thing was, that she was Love's dog for a decade and a half before I ever entered the picture. But, I was the one that when I was picking up the food and water dish ended up sitting on my ass with my back against the wall, bawling my eyes out.
We should have put Little Bit to sleep. I can see that now. Her mind was gone and she was in a lot of pain. But... well, it was after we'd both become disabled and money was tight. Actually non-existent. We didn't have food, much less money for a vet. And we'd just pawned our wedding rings for me to buy a bus ticket to see my mother in the hospital for what turned out to be the last time.
Mom died in the hospital from Lymphoma. And I was told her organs had started shutting down, but that was all. So, I had a very vivid imagining of what that must have been like. And a week after Mom died, Little Bit started shutting down. Until the day I die, I will remember holding that little puppy that was born in my clothes, surrounded by my scent, puking up bile in my arms as her heart and lungs labored. And thinking that this is what it must have been like for Mom.
Despite already struggling to get the trash to the dumpster, that night I went out into the backyard and dug a hole for that pretty little puppy with tears and snot running down my face.
About a week later, a friend found us burrowed under blankets with no heat, no light, no food, a big foreclosure notice on the front door... And took us back to stay with them.
One month after Mom died, three weeks after I held Little Bit in her death throes, that friend opened the front door and said, "Look what I found."
And a little puppy that I could tell at a glance wasn't ready to be off the tit came limping inside, straight over to me, and couldn't have said any louder if she'd been able to speak, "this is who I came for." Well, I fought it tooth and nail, but I've already told some of that story elsewhere and that isn't really what this was about.
I don't know, LillianaZ. I've had dogs put to sleep and dogs that I held until they died on their own. Both had their own struggle and haunting for me. Still haunt me from time to time.
Any road, I guess my long-winded point is that I feel for what you are feeling, even though I obviously can't know exactly what that is. And I send warm fuzzy virtual hugs for anyone struggling with the pain of losing such a good friend.
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lillianaZ
Guest
Thank you, Puck. Warm, fuzzy hugs are the best kind! Maybe I'll have to tell the whole story and get it out, once I don't cry every time I think of him. Do you think it's therapeutic? Lilli
Lilli
Always theraputic. At least for me and anyone I've ever even heard about.
And... I don't know. I can't help but think it might be a good idea while the tears are still there. To help get them all out.
*shrug*
Just my two cents. And probably worth less than I charge.
Bramblethorn
Sleep-deprived
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Oh, that's tough. Making the call to have my old dog put down was so hard, and I felt like I was betraying him. But eventually I was able to look back and acknowledge how far downhill he'd gone, and accept that it wouldn't have been a kindness to keep him going.
DeepGreenEyes
Whittled
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Big hug to you, lilliana. It’s heartbreaking. You just want your friend back. I hope you’ll take extra good care of yourself.
You never forget them.
Thanks, cookie.
Good thoughts for your fam, Shank. Take care of yourself.
Puck, thank you for sharing those powerfully intimate thoughts and memories of the power of paws. Incredible.
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lillianaZ
Guest
Big hug to you, lilliana. It’s heartbreaking. You just want your friend back. I hope you’ll take extra good care of yourself.
Thank you DGE. It's been a hell of a week.
I'm doing my best to hang in there. *hugs back*Lilli
Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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ronmcc2448
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I'm so sorry
HUGS Fur babies become family members. I had my Pit Bull for 14 years. He passed the same day I had open heart surgery and passed on the operating table and was brought back. My parents had him cremated for me. Your loss of beloved family member will get easier over time. Again I'm sorry for your loss.ronmcc2448
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ronmcc2448
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Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
- Joined
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Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
- Joined
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Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
- Joined
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Shankara20
Well, that is lovely
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