Goodbye to a Good Boy

I find that in thinking about what to write for this blog, what to say about the best dog I could imagine, my mind goes to the end. His end.

My mind goes to the idea that we offer pets a dignity that humans are not afforded – an end to the suffering.

An end to the pain.

I think of my mother, and how it was clear she was ready to go but that her body didn’t know how to let go. I watched as my mother went comatose, and as her body slowly died around her. She had stopped eating, she had stopped drinking. She was ready to go. Some part of her was ready to go. I am sure the human spirit, ANY creature that can think and feel, never wants to go, but there is also a part that is ready for the suffering to be over.

If you know it’s the end, and there is no more you can do then what is there left for you?

We afford pets the ability to be given the dignity of death.

While it’s horrific to think there are people that have animals euthenized who are neither sick, nor dying, if it is done with the intent of ending the suffering of the animal then it is a kindness.

It is the hardest kind of kindness.

And it’s something we do not offer humans.

We force humans to live out every excruciating moment because we don’t want them to have full autonomy. Not that we should advocate for suicide but that we should allow people to have a voice in how their story ends. Especially when they are dying or near-so.

I have sat and tried to give comfort to three dogs I have loved dearly as they were released from their pain, and each time took a piece of me that will never return. There was a cost. A cost I paid because this is the cost of loving.

This is the cost of loving in a world that is ephemeral.

All things pass because if they did not then what beauty would there be in this world?

We need the renewal and revival that is part of nature, as much as we may hate its cost.

And so yesterday we let our big boy, our Woofington Danger Ringler, or Danger, go.

I have written about this previously but just for the sake of a refresher, Danger got sick on June 7. He was listless and throwing up. It turned out he was going septic from a tear in his large intestine. He underwent emergency surgery and had a 50/50 chance to survive it. He did and then had to survive recovery. He did. Sadly, it turned out that our big boy had terminal cancer and it was only a matter of time until we lost him. We went into deep debt to save him. A deep debt I am slowly trying to figure out to pay. We luckily had some help from friends but it was only one bite of a buffet.

It was worth it though as we were given four more months with him to say goodbye and for him to say goodbye. I didn’t want to let him die alone.

He didn’t.

He was my boy.

Danger was a rescue.

A rescue husky we adopted.

My wife fell in love at first sight.

After losing her own dog to cancer we had taken in a stray for a few weeks until we found someone to adpot her the day we met Dangey. That stray was a sweet girl but wasn’t ‘ours’.

Danger was.

And we were his.

The first year we had him I slept on the couch with him so he wouldn’t be lonely. He chewed on me as he teethed. He pulled my movies off the shelves. He tore things up. He sassed. He was a pain in the neck and we loved him. He was a big boy that was afraid of everything. We got him a sister that he came to love and they played and chased one another around but we lost her to cancer only four months after we had gotten her, she being still a puppy, and we had to let her go so she could be out of pain. Danger welcome another puppy sister and it started out rough between them but they became to be best friends.

When we brought home our little girl the dogs both had to figure out who this little human was but they quickly came to love her and wanted to be near her. If she was upset, so were they. That was their baby too.

And now our little girl’s ‘big boy’ is gone and she doesn’t quite understand why. We have told her he was sick, and we described what happened to him yesterday and part of her gets it but part doesn’t and we have to keep telling her, no honey, he isn’t coming back.

He’s never coming back.

He’s gone.

Dangey was a big boy that got on his hind legs to give hugs, and gave lots of kisses. Not everyone wanted either but it was hard to get over his charm. He had a huge personality and was often smiling.

At the end, he was in so much discomfort, from the medications and the cancer, he was ready to go.

We didn’t want to let him go, but it was the right thing to do.

I am glad we did, as heartbreaking as it was.

I will never get over his loss.

But he is out of pain.

He is at peace.

I only wish we offered as much dignity and peace to humans.

Goodbye my big, sweet boy.

Goodbye.

…c…