It's hard to believe it's almost four years since I last saw our pet dog, Spike, alive. The anniversary of his passing is this Monday (March 26), and before I forget, I thought I'd write about the day in which we made the difficult decision to have him put down. It's amazing how attached you become to your pets; but it's really not hard to understand, especially when you consider how long they have been with you. In Spike's case, he was alive with us for 12 years. That's a long time, especially in dog years. But, it's never long enough.
Leading up to the event, we knew that Spike was not himself. True, he was getting old, but once he would no longer eat his favorite doggie treats, something was really wrong. His breathing became abnormal - short, staggered breaths. He also had great difficulty getting up and walking around. It's why you often saw him laying and not even rising when one of us came outside. It was time to bring him in to the vet; but it wasn't going to be easy. He did not liked to be lifted, but it was the only way we were getting him in the back seat of the car. My dad had that difficult task. Spike snarled and growled, but my dad got him into the car; setting him on a blanket. It was time to take that fateful trip to the vet.
I'll be perfectly honest, having him put down NEVER crossed my mind before or during the trip to the vet. I don't know why; maybe I was in denial that he was really that sick. I figured there was something the vet could do; maybe give him some pills or do something to make him feel better. But the fact of the matter was, he was in too bad of shape to have anything done to him. And we would soon find that out after talking to the vet.
It had been years since Spike was last at the vet. In fact, he was only one or two years old when we took him in after he was hit by a truck. We lived out in the country where getting the regular animal vaccinations was not enforced by no means. Spike never got sick and as long as he stayed around in the backyard, we knew he was pretty safe. He suffered a severe injury to his head when he was hit by a truck. It's amazing to all of us that he didn't die from the accident. In fact, my dad thought he was in such bad shape that he went and borrowed a gun to put him down. After laying motionless, Spike suddenly disappeared, and we soon had to find him. He was under the front deck, panting, and seemed to be happy, despite nearly being killed and in obvious pain. That trip to the vet cost hundreds of dollars after the vet ended up doing surgery to Spike's head. I suspect that Spike was never 100% normal from that point on, but he seemed to do quite well for a long time. We had been through a lot together, not just me, but the rest of my family as well. You can see why it was so difficult to make the decision and have him put away.
After examining Spike, the vet had a look of despair on his face. Spike was very uncomfortable, and lifting him onto the examination table was no easy task. He had cancer and the outlook was not good. The vet even said that surgery probably wouldn't even help matters and he may not live much longer; even after surgery. The fact is, he was old. That's when it finally hit me, "Oh god, we have to put him down." That's when I started to get very emotional. I tried holding back the tears, but I just couldn't help it. Before long, I was sobbing away, looking for a kleenex. 12 years together, and this was how it was going to end. Even though I wanted Spike to feel better and to have the surgery, I knew it just was not practical. To have him put down would end his suffering. And that's what my dad and I both decided on.
After saying our final goodbyes and giving him one last pet, we left the room. I had a feeling Spike knew what was happening to him, as he was barking and growling. They even had to put a muzzle on him - just in case he would bite someone. I sat in the waiting room, crying my eyes out, listening to the barks starting to fade out. And then, they ended. He was gone. That didn't make me feel any better and I was relieved to be out of the vet's office. We still had a couple of feet of snow left and the ground was still quite frozen. A part of me wanted us to take Spike's body home and give him a proper burial. But it just wasn't possible and the vet ended up disposing the body. The ordeal was finally over.
I spent a good period of time in mourning after Spike's passing. Certain songs on the radio became very difficult to listen to as they reminded me of him. The backyard was very eerie, due to his lacking presence. Things just weren't the same; but I knew that it would take time to adjust to being without a family pet. And eventually, things weren't as difficult.
Now that its been four year since that day, I know we made the best decision for everyone, even Spike. As I said earlier in the blog, he no longer suffered from the cancer that was limiting his life. 12 years is a long time and I have many wonderful memories of him as out pet. Those are the memories I will cherish for a very long time into the future. RIP Spike.
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