I'm only a few feet away from the pet bed that my beloved dog had always preferred. I think it was the most comfy in the house made of memory foam with a faux fur covering and out of the 5 or 6 dog beds strewn throughout my house it was his favorite spot and as such my eldest claimed the bed as his own. Every once in a while one of my other two dogs would brave an attempt at lying on it but usually as soon as he stepped near they relinquished ownership.
At this moment its being occupied by my female Shepherd who often, over the years, has exerted herself as the next in line in the Alpha chain quite frequently challenging my now poor deceased boy. I have a third German Shepherd, I have to get used to thinking of that number as only two now that my eldest is gone. On at least two or three occasions he too has braved to claim to the bed, approaching it and trying his luck at taking possession only to submit to my female who quickly let him know that he was overstepping his boundaries. When she sees him lying there she will approach in a slightly agitated manner and a "What are you doing here?" attitude, tail slightly stiffened, ears in an mildly aggressive stance.
My family (of which there are only two humans) my husband and my canine children, are adjusting to the loss of my eldest dog. Every so often my female sits before me, staring at me, and then as if questioning me scratches at my knee with her paw seemingly asking "Where is he?" and of course I answer "Your brother is gone" as I pet/pat her head, rubbing her ears and then her snout, telling her how sorry I am but "he won't be coming home anymore."
I am simply sick with loss and when I relive that night over and over in my head, the night when we loaded my poor boy, he, barely able to walk, into the car. He didn't know this would be his final ride. He was very excited as this was his first car ride in several months and as with most dogs a car ride is a huge treat, that special occasional reward to which they look forward, the excitement of getting out of the house and enjoy a different kind of freedom. On this particular evening it must have seemed even more special to him as he was going by himself, not crowded in the back as he usually is by his brother and sister. He was center of attention.
Somehow I think that at the end of that ride, as we exited the car he had become aware that something was up, I feel like he knew when we entered the veterinarian's office that this was going to be a one way trip. You might think that this is a silly assumption, after all how could he possibly know? But his actions seemed to show that he knew something was amiss. He pissed himself right there in the middle of the waiting area, in front of everyone, something he would normally never do. He must have become so horrifically frightened, no, terrified.
Lately he had been having accidents but even though his legs had started to fail him and were only recently started going out from under him he still did his best to avoid peeing in the house but the effort of going up and down the stairs was just too much for him so lately there would be these accidents, he tried to hide them because he knew it was wrong so shamefully he managed to work his way, stumbling, out of the room, he didn't want to get in trouble so he would do his "no-no" out of view, he didn't want to pee in the house but the effort of going outside, up and down those stairs had just become too much of a burden.
So here he stood, shaking in fear, in a brightly lit veterinary's office, peeing... shivering uncontrollably, he had to know, this action was so unlike him. Knowing that he knew it was over you can't imagine the betrayal I felt at the moment as I walked him to the exam room, escorted by the technician, into a room from which he would never exit. It had to be done, my poor boy just couldn't go on living like this, his quality of life was truly diminishing and I could tell he just didn't seem happy anymore. When I would look at him lying in my living room lately his expression was so sad. It was time.
I tried to comfort him, kissing him, hugging him, telling him how much I loved his as I tried to reassure him while also trying to justify the overwhelming guilt I was feeling at being the person making the decision to end my my poor baby's life. Any moment my beautiful boy's heart would stop and it was because of me my best friend of the past 11 years was leaving this world. I lay there with him as the doctor injected the fluids into his IV, I kissed his cheek, crying, and told him I hoped that I had given him a good life and then I heard the doctor say "He's gone".
They told me I could spend as much time as I needed with his body but my boy was gone, his life source, the thing that made him my special boy was gone, I didn't feel a need to stay any longer. I kissed his cheek one more time and told him I was sorry and would miss him. As I stood I started crying uncontrollably, gasping between sobs. We walked from the room leaving his body laying on the quilt the doctor had placed on the floor prior to our arrival, trying to ensure he would be comfortable during those last few minutes. It was such a kind gesture, their being so considerate and respectful. I looked back at him one last time.
He went so peacefully and for this I'm grateful. I will miss that dog forever. His image is tattooed on my the left shoulder of my back, I had this done a few years back anticipating this day, knowing that we were approaching this inevitable day and so now it has come and passed, my boy is gone.