Tuesday – Waiting for the Dog to Die

[ninanevermore]

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I've always liked dogs. A good dog is loyal, fun, sweet, and friendly. Having a good dog in your life lowers your blood pressure, makes photos taken around your house cuter by adding the fuzz factor, and gives you a good excuse to exercise by enticing you to take walks that are beneficial to you and the beast both. I had a great dog: she was so sweet that we called her "the love sponge" because she soaked up love from any human willing to show her affection. I still have this dog; she has just lived long passed her expiration date.

At the risk of sounding like a heartless jerk, I wish she'd just die already.

My dog is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, a breed that is supposed to live about 10 years. My dog is now 50% beyond that. For more than a decade, people who saw her would say, Awwww! Look how cute!, because she was about as cute as a dog can be. Now they say, Aw, man! What's wrong with it? She has chronic dermatitis that causes her to lose her hair in patches and makes her skin flake and smell bad. She's lame in one hind leg. She's mostly blind and all deaf. What fur she has left is grizzled and gray. She'd rather sleep than play.

"But she still eats and she still wags her tail," my husband says, "when she stops doing both of those things, we'll talk about putting her down."

He's got a point. Obviously, life still gives her some pleasure. I've never respected people who abandon or kill off their pets when they stop being cute. But the fact that she no longer smells cute causes me some consternation. The other thing that causes me consternation is the fact that I trip over her a lot.

Since she first started to lose her senses of sight and sound, she began to stay close to us to keep track of where we are. By close, I mean "underfoot." If she's not hanging out next to our ankles and using us as seeing-eye humans, she parks herself right in whatever pathway she knows we will walk through to keep us from leaving the room without her being aware. I understand why she does these things, but I can only have so much sympathy as I am falling face-first toward the floor after yet again getting my feet entangled in a small, smelly dog.

Still, the idea of putting her to sleep is heart breaking. She was a wonderful dog for a lot of years. Getting old happens to everyone lucky enough not to die young and it's not her fault. Given all that, I have to honest and admit it would be a relief if she would die peacefully in her sleep. Within a few weeks, I bet I could have the house smelling pleasant again.

I recently read an article about a dachshund in Long Island who has lived 21 years. The article was written to be cute and endearing.

For some reason, I found it very, very depressing.


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Comments

[millysdaughter.livejournal.com]

Shadow smelled very bad when she had cancer tumors. Once those were gone, it was fine.
Shadow was 18 1/2, totally blind and pretty much deaf when she went. Along the way, she survived two rounds of cancer and one stroke. I think the stroke may have been what took her vision. But she was still a happy dog, enjoying her food and her peoples. As long as she is not in pain, was the vet's thought. She was a bit arthritic, and chewed baby aspirin every day.
Boy, when you put it on paper she sounds a mess, eh? But it was not like that. She was ... just Shadow. And she was part of our family.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

Evie is still a member of the family, too - a cranky, stubborn, smelly member I trip over a lot. *sigh*

[millysdaughter.livejournal.com]

At far too many points in life, that description can fit all of us!

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

LOL! True!

[martina-d.livejournal.com]

I have told Husband more than once, that when someone comes home to find me unconscious or dead, that it will be because I tripped over the dog. Ours also likes to be as close as possible, but only to me, and only because I tend to drop things all the time, which is his criteria for food. If it hits the floor, it's edible. He is also a golden retriever mix, and matches our wood floors perfectly. I stumble over him daily.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

Rugs. Brightly colored rugs. I think they help you.

My dog is just small enough and keeps a low enough profile that I fail to notice her. She helpfully yelps when she gets stepped on, which happens at least once a day. Does that stop her? Nope. Five minutes later, I'm stepping on her again. :P

[adamant-turtle.livejournal.com]

I have told Husband more than once, that when someone comes home to find me unconscious or dead, that it will be because I tripped over the dog.

Mine just likes to leave her tennis balls strategically placed around the house, i.e. in the middle of the dark hallway, or at the foot of my bed, so I can kill myself when I first wake up and am still semi-conscious...

[simplecity2htwn.livejournal.com]

I'd always said that when any of my dogs was in more pain/discomfort than not, I'd do the humane thing and have them put down. Of course, when that situation came to bear, I wanted to do anything but. One day, Patti (13 year old Beagle) walked into the kitchen, stopped, her eyes rolled up into her head and she keeled over. She didn't appear to be breathing and I couldn't feel a heartbeat. I was simultaneously heartbroken and relieved. I thought I'd gotten off the hook. In typical Beagle fashion, she was too stubborn to make it that easy on me. After about 45 seconds, her eyes blinked and she just "came back".

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

LOL! I grew up with beagles. They're as stubborn as they are sweet, aren't they? :)

[simplecity2htwn.livejournal.com]

Yes they are. She and Babe used to have honest to goodness battles of will, but Babe still gets a little misty when she talks about her.

[jenandbronze.livejournal.com]

This is what I have been told, sometimes a dog will tell you when it is time ... look in their eyes, they will tell you as well. when that inevitable time to put a dog to sleep, si very difficlt. I am not looking forward to my first experience of being in the room while the vet put my first guide dog, who is retired, to sleep. He is almost 11, so the time is coming. He a very sprightly dog, and still acts like a two-year-old puppy! I am sending you hugs at this tough time.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

Some vets let you stay in the room, if you are tough enough, so you can hold their paw and help them through it. Or so I've read.

I haven't got the message from my dog yet that she has given up. It's only in the last year she has gotten so decrepit. I'm worried she doesn't think we can live without her, and is hanging around on our account.

I'm a wuss: I'll let Jeff make the decision, since she treats him like the pack leader and I'm treated more like another dog that only barely outranks her.

[jenelycam.livejournal.com]

*HUGS* It's not easy to think about a loved one being old, smelly or dying. Even when it's a pet.

[neanahe.livejournal.com]

I hate to admit this, but the smellier they get, the easier the idea of them dying becomes. Perhaps its all part of some Divine plan to make the loss of a pet less painful and more of a relief. ;^P