Doggy Down

He was an interesting kinda fella, a smaller version of us really. Within one canine, there was a microcosm of each family member reflected. Stubbornness, tenacity, irritability, intensity, maybe a little too much aggressive whining? He was affectionate, emotionally independent, and liked to just hang out and be with, no conversation required. 

When we got him, I wanted him to bond with me. I wanted him to be my dog. When my former husband left the family, my dog sat with me often, ruining my white couch, while I hugged him and cried. He used to lay his head on my lap, but would jump up at the sound or the possibility, of someone making something in the kitchen ... that guy could hear a banana peeling from two rooms away. 

My mom named him Cesar, the ruler of our family. He knew how to open the heavy sliding door, escape and get into other peoples houses, and always find food on our walks. If I took his bowl away from him mid munch, he would allow it, but getting a rib from him on garbage day, found in the grass at the end of someones lawn, meant I could lose a finger or two if I didn't leave him with his bone. He was part hound, and that side of him dominated ... the pug part of him only prevailed in his odd snorting breathing ... when tracking a scent, he sounded like a little piglet ... a Piggle he was.

Today my son and I took him to be lethally injected. He was sixteen and a half, blind, weak in the back legs, restless and wandering, but forever hungry too. When I discovered liver snacks in the room we were in to have the death shot given, I gave him lots of them, lots and lots of them ... my way of saying eat sweet boy, your last quickly swallowed snack here on earth. I told the vet when she asked me if I was familiar with euthanasia, I don't believe in euthanasia, and yet here I am, and Thank-You for doing this. 

I am not sure if dogs go to heaven. The Bible suggests they don't but i sure hope they do, not just because I want to see Cesar again, but because animals are so honest, so themselves all the time. That guy couldn't lie if you threatened never to feed him again ... it just wasn't possible, and I guess, I wish humans were that trust worthy, that easy and straightforward too. 

I pet him while sedation slowed him to a slumber. He could hear me and feel me, and I said the things I wanted to say, things like, You were a pain in the ass and I love you; You could clear a room quickly; and Thank-You for being with me when I was sad.

I do miss him, but I miss the guy he used to be, not the feeble blind fella he became. It hurts to see decline, knowing it will only get worse ... I saw this with my dad, many years ago ... it will happen to me, and to you, and my hope is that we will be treated with kindness in our frailty.

I can't imagine euthanizing humans. I could not would not ... it is immoral and wrong: is it immoral and wrong that I paid money to have a stranger slow my dog down until he breathed no more? Perhaps it is, and I am an accomplice to murder. Perhaps it was a kindness bestowed from me to him, with my son by my side. Forgive me Lord, either way these circumstances are untenable. 

I am saying goodbye to a furry pal, but with the saying goodbye, I recall the hellos, the way he came to be in our lives. I revisit memories that have me tear up for what used to be, could have should have been. 

Death is a great reminder to appreciate life, to hug the ones you love closely, because it may be the last time. 

Goodbye Cesar, I am glad you were my dog. I hope you are eating a rib with the meat on it, and that there are a lot of liver snacks, trees to sniff and mark, and fields of snow to run in and gobble up. 

PS: I hope your bark is back, and you howl to your hearts content 💖