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OpiniOn
Case in Point
other seizure. I mentioned he was a busy dog. Yet he was always the most calm with me. (Remember back to day one on that first ride home.) I have always felt that he could feel my ease and calmness around him. He always showed the same to me and for the past few years, he got along just fine when we had to make trips together. When he had the seizure in November, my mother began talking about perhaps it being time to let him go. However, I vowed that as long as he was eating and drinking and had his usual zest for life, I couldnt do it. I wouldnt. During the rest of November, December and then into January, he had his good days and bad. And while he did keep eating and drinking and he did continue to have the drive to live, his body was failing. He lost 40 percent of his body weight due to decreasing muscle mass. It was worst in his back legs and hips. For the past 4-6 weeks, he never really wanted to go to the kitchen, where his bedding and food were, because of the linoleum floor. Due to his failing hips and back legs, it was a treacherous trip to find footing on that slick surface. Yet given all of that, every day when I would come up to take care of the dogs during my lunch break, Cole would brave the ice rink that was the kitchen to come meet me at the stove while I would cook meals. He liked to come up behind me, stick his head and
nose through my legs and wait to be petted. We were both the perfect height for that. No matter what kind of day he (or I) was having, that hour was always a good hour. For every bad thing my parents were glad I didnt see, I wish they could have seen those good hours. However, when I arrived home last Wednesday, he couldnt brave the ice. He was laying on the linoleum rather than his bedding and he couldnt get up. I had to pick him up off the floor and take him to the carpet of the living room where he could find footing. As he walked, his rear left leg wasnt working. It wasnt broken, it just wasnt responding very well. He quickly laid down and for four-plus hours, I stayed with him. Often, he would try to rise but just couldnt. His head was down and he was visibly frustrated. Every time he tried to get up and failed, my heart continued to break. I knew what had to be done. My mother and I took him to see Wayne, a wonderful doctor and friend who always says and does the right things. He told us what we already knew. He said that dogs will always give you 110 percent but the body was just gone. There was nothing that could be done. It was a difficult decision to put him down but it would have been more difficult to watch the most active dog Ive ever seen be succumbed to immobility. I owed him that much.