SUBSCRIBE VIA RSSOver the past few months our lives have resembled bad country song lyrics. Not that I’d recognize good country song lyrics if I heard them, but we’ve at least proven that every cliche in a bad country song CAN happen.
While I have yet to be arrested for drunk & disorderly conduct after being found naked in a ditch, I can’t say a mental-fritz moment of that caliber isn’t far behind.
I apologize for not being attentive to the world of blogging but my priority has always been “family first.” And right now, between Heather’s family’s needs and my family’s needs and our family’s needs, I’m being torn in a million different directions. Much like a poodle would be if it wandered between two rabid pit bulls while wearing a sweater made of bacon. That’s me. The poodle. But with extra thick bacon.
Heather’s father continues to undergo treatment for prostate cancer and while it seems to be responding, we won’t have an accurate assessment for weeks. With more than a dozen treatments yet to come, we’re simply hoping and praying for the best.
My grandmother, who had suffered a heart attack and a gaggle of strokes, was essentially booted from her hospital bed because of Medicaid’s policies even though she can’t make it to the bathroom without becoming short of breath. As of this morning, she’s resting at her own apartment and arguing with both human and inanimate objects over how her now-clean apartment has turned her life upside down.
She’s adamant that she can still remain independent and she doesn’t want anyone even insinuating that she requires assistance or needs to thin out her accumulated stash of possessions. I love her spirit, but at some point, she’s going to have to realize that she no longer needs a bag of golf clubs. These are clubs she’s owned since she was a teenager, which means they’re probably fashioned from Mastodon tusks. Which, from what I understand, are excellent for striking golf balls made of monkey molars.
The plan, with or without her cooperation, is to eventually get my grandmother from her apartment way up north in New York to my parent’s home way down south in Texas. The challenge is getting her there fast enough before a) a potty break emergency arises; or b) she is charged with a misdemeanor for caning “the stupid”.
With the Space Shuttle being retired, I just don’t think there’s a fast enough mode of travel for all concerned.
Thoughts have varied, from flying (God help the TSA) to renting a camper and driving her there (God help us all). Regardless of what’s decided, I wish I had a documentary crew handy because the entire experience would make for fabulous television.
As with most sad and cliched country songs, my wife has also left me. Not for some rodeo clown or whiskey runner, but rather to be there and assist with my grandmother’s transition from total control to feigned total control. Heather came home for 16 hours to celebrate our son’s 11th birthday, but had to return the very next morning to continue with “Grams Duty.” In the past 2+ weeks, I’ve seen her for 16 hours, and 8 of those were spent sleeping.
Also? Our van broke down. I can’t say it shocks me, what with the Chrysler emblem on its rear, but it’s not a headache or an expense we need right now.
So, cliched country songs considered, we have job stress, family turmoil, the truck breaking down, my wife leaving, and a refrigerator void of beer ‘n whiskey (not that it’s ever in there, it just seems like a country song kind of thing).
Looking at the checklist, all that’s missing now is the dog dying.
And that comes on Wednesday.
Dory, our lil’ rescue who we saved around this time last year, has to be put down. It’s a heart-wrenching decision, but considering her condition, there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.
We’ve agonized over making the appointment and I must say that it feels REALLY awkward to schedule such a thing. I hated making the call to discuss our decision with the vet but it’s just not the kind of situation that warrants a “pop in” visit.
As many of you will remember, my wife found Dory in a deplorable environment and in poor physical health. She had been chained to a tire in an old barn and left to fend off rats that brazenly stole from her food dish and water bucket. She had matted fur, caked-on manure and mud, and a giant tumor hanging from her ear. She couldn’t lift her head, couldn’t walk without a struggle, and just seemed resigned to fate after years of heartless tethering.
Heather begged the owner to let her take the dog. He only agreed after she promised not to report him.
In the months that followed her rescue, Dory seemed to regain some of that canine spirit that had been dampened by years of neglect. We had her groomed, tended to by the vet, and smothered her in love and attempted play. We even created a “Bucket List” filled with reader suggestions to try and give her all she’d missed out on as a pup.
For several months, she rocked her new look and her new home. But things started to change for the worse at the beginning of summer. Already pretty senile we didn’t expect much but we took comfort knowing that we were at least providing her with a better life and a brand new start. Albeit 12 years later than she deserved.
Sadly, over the past six to eight weeks, her condition has worsened to the point where we felt a professional opinion was necessary. Was it nutrition? Could a bottle of something help?
No.
Not unless the bottle had first been dipped in the canine Fountain of Youth.
Dory’s mind is there, but you wouldn’t know it. Nor would she. It’s quite obvious that she has no clue where she is or what’s going on around her. She’ll wander aimlessly throughout the house bumping into furniture and even the occasional wall. Her eyes are glazed over and it’s quite apparent that she’s all but blind.
If you reach to pet her, she only sees your hand when it’s just outside her muzzle, and even then, she flinches. She can’t hear and only acknowledges sound if it’s a loud clap near her head. Even then, it brings on utter confusion, and any voice commands go unacknowledged. Most likely because they’ve gone unheard.
She also has no control over her bodily functions as she urinates and defecates in her sleep, or when walking anywhere but outside. Her urine seems to be attracted to wood floors because it’s a constant battle to keep her from soiling our den. Not wanting to leave her outside, we take her out regularly and even considered dog diapers, a product I swore I’d never buy unless intended as a joke. She has trouble walking once assisted to stand and is now on her second day of not being able to keep food down.
Quite obviously, it’s time.
Although only with us for a year, she became a part of the family. And while she came with more than her fair share of frustrations, we realized that she also came with more than her fair share of abuse. We did what we said we would, we’d improve her life even if it were only for a few months.
Far better memories than she would have had.
said, I don’t care if she only has a month left. Dory is going
to be loved and tended to properly until her final day.”
We’ve prepared the children by explaining the situation, and of course, their hearts are broken. Especially Kamryn. To Kamryn, Dory was her dog, and she’s inconsolable right now.
It wasn’t my intention to tell her yet but our 11-year old son was upset and tried speaking in code about it. He asked why Dory needed to be “put down” (that’s the code) and Kamryn freaked out. He asked her if she even knew what it meant and she replied, “to die.” Needless to say, they both welled with tears.
Somewhere in the deep confines of the still functioning portions of her brain, I know Dory appreciated her new surroundings and her new family. I just wish we had been able to bring her into our home sooner.
I felt very strange scheduling the appointment but there’s no book on the right way to do this, the right way to grieve, or the right way to say goodbye.
I must say that I’ll miss watching her bumble around the house. While totally on accident, she was quite entertaining and I’m going to miss her natural aloofness. Even though we knew this day would come sooner than later, it’s never something you’re truly prepared for.
We were asked if we’d like to arrange to take her body with us and bury her on our own but I find that a little too creepy for my tastes. I know some people do it and are comforted by it. In fact, our neighbor has four self-dug graves of past dogs behind his shed. As for me, I just can’t do it. My hatred for manual labor aside, I’m just not comfortable doing the Pet Sematary thing. The last thing I need is for a Dory zombie to break in, pee all over the house, and then kill us.
Instead, we’re opting for a teaspoon of Dory by way of cremation.
We’ll let the kids decide where to put her, whether it be our garden, at their grandparent’s farm, or at the lake. Regardless of what they choose, we think it will help with the mourning process and feel it’d be the proper goodbye. I don’t really know what all to expect, I just know it’s going to be emotionally brutal.
Her experience touched our lives and we know we improved hers. I just wish it could have lasted longer.
And I say this even after 600 rolls of urine-soaked paper towels.
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You gave her another year of life. A wonderful life. I’m so sorry that you guys have to do this.
I am sorry. A pet is a family member and there is no easy way to say goodbye. But you helped her with her doggie bucket list, and whatever she didnt get to do she will do in the great big doggie park in the sky. And to help the kids with the grief there is a book called “Dog Heaven” that may help a little.
i knew it had to be something family, my heart breaks for you but take comfort in the joy she got to know at least for awhile, the love of a child stroking her fur and the safety she had never known before she got to know for awhile. i can’t stop crying, losing a pet is aways the worst ever cause you can’t tell them can you, you try but how do we know it gets through? kiss her head for me and give her ear a scratch.
i hope your grand mother settles soon and your lovely wife is by your side once again. hello to your really neat kids.
and i hope heather’s father champions over the cancer!
Greg–
We had to do this 2 weeks ago–Erik was the dog my daughter chose when she was 12 years old. A beautiful but aloof and troubled dog. He had clearly been abused by a man, and was hand-shy and aggressive toward men.
My now 27-year old girl came home and said “Mom, Erik isn’t in there any more….” His hind legs collapsed regularly, and my weightlifting at the gym paid off multiple times when I had to lift him and carry him.
I have not cried too much because I think of the 15 years we had him and how much fun he *did* have, in spite of his diffidence.
So try to dwell on this fact–Dory knew she was loved — and that makes all the difference to a dog, I think.
I don’t know who first said this, but it’s so true: the only thing wrong with dogs is that they don’t live long enough.
I have tears running down my face.County music always makes me cry. No matter how long you have a pet, they manage to find their way into our hearts and make us love them like crazy. I hope things start looking up for you guys after the next couple weeks and you can end this summer on a better note.
First, I’m so sorry for your impending loss. It’s never easy, and all the Rainbow Bridge poems and hugs and well-meaning platitudes (while said with love) can’t bring back your pet. But know that they are all heartily meant.
And second, thank you for comparing your year to a country song. I, too, have had a country-song worthy year, but had only been thinking of it as a really crummy year – maybe this is how I can deal with it going forward. A new way of thinking of things… or I could just listen to “red solo cup” (best country song ever, as far as my puerile music tastes are concerned)…
Your family crammed a lifetime of love into the year you’ve had with Dory, and I don’t doubt for a minute that she knows and appreciates it. Dogs are smart like that. The ashes vs. a burial sounds like a good way to say goodbye. Our vet cast a ceramic paw print of my dog Foster when we had to make ‘the call’ last year, and the kids seem to like having a little reminder of him. I’d confess that we still find dog hair sometimes and we comment that he’ll always be around, but that could make me sound like a poor housekeeper rather than a sentimental-type person. And we can’t have that.
We had to schedule the same awful appt for our 19 year old cat this past spring. After 18 years of a little spry dude that did back flips every morning, he just suddenly started changing. It got worse and worse, and then we got the dreaded test results (liver and stomach cancer). As an adult you think you’ll easily be able to make that decision. But it isn’t. You still feel evil and right all at the same time, making that appt to kill your pet. That last night before you go in is both the best and the worst. I wish you the best in handling it with the kids. It is a craptastic thing to go through at any age but if nothing else, your kids will get to experience this grief WITH you and understand that it is okay to be upset about it. And it is okay to accept it as part of nature when you are ready.
I also send good thoughts to you and your extended family. I know that you all must be exhausted.
Sorry…
I’m so sorry, Greg. Along with everything else going on right now, going through the emotions that go with putting a family dog down is really the last thing you need right now. We had to do it a year ago with our 4 year old dog. I tell my kids that now that they’ve gone through that, there’s not much they can’t handle. It’s a horrible decision to make, but as a responsible pet owner, it’s our job to make that call when the time comes. I hope things settle down for your family. Best wishes to all of you!
All the same condolences as given above. It was a wonderful thing you and your family have done for Dory. I “specialize” in adopting abused, thrown-away dogs and cats, especially the senior ones. Three old dogs and four old cats currently reside with us. I also cremate my furry friends when they pass. We have found that it leads to a much better sense of closure, especially for the kids.
If you haven’t asked already, it may be worthwhile asking your veterinarian if they will come to your house to do the euthanasia. Many of them do. I am suggesting this from the viewpoint of what may be more comfortable for Dory, not what would be best for your children. I do believe that the elder dogs I have done this for were much less anxious and agitated, making it a less stressful situation for all involved. I am also fortunate to have a pet crematorium that schedules pick ups, so that was helpful as well. I certainly don’t know what resources are available to you, but I just wanted to throw that out there.
I wish you all peace on what will be a very sad day for your family. Bless you all for your kindnesses.
I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through such a rough time in your life. My thoughts go out to you and your family.
This is abosolutely heartbreaking news. I’m sorry you’ve had to hear this country song. Dory is a lucky dog and I am positive she has aprreciated her life for the last year more than you could possibly know. There is no easy way to make this decision or convenient time to enact it. My thoughts are with you and your family – for everything. May Dory find comfortable couches and open fields across the Rainbow Bridge.
Dory was the reason I started hanging around to read your blog. I’m so sorry for your loss.
She probably thought she had already died and gone to heaven when you rescued her! Embrace the year you gave her and set her free from her suffering. So sorry for your loss and especially for the kiddos.
Dang. Go well, Dory. Many warm and comforting thoughts coming your way, especially to the kids.
And much strength to you and Mrs. Telling Dad.
I’m so so sorry. We had to do the same just a couple of months ago for our golden, Griff. He turned 14 in February and we all knew he was an old man (we had him for 13 awesome years!) and that we would have to make that decision at some point but as long as he was happy we were happy.
He started having trouble getting up and laying down, but that was ok. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, just a bit stiff and of course, slower than he was as a puppy. Then he started having poop accidents. No problem- we would just whisk it up and take care of it. We knew it was an age thing, and it wasn’t messy diarrhea or anything, thank goodness. And during it all we wondered if we would know when it was the right time. The point where it would be more cruel to try to keep him alive than to let him go. Never having been through this before I didn’t know if I would recognize that point, but I did.
We always joked that as an old golden, his spirit was willing but his flesh was weak. The last week he was with us, it was evident that not only was the flesh weak, but his spirit had picked up his ball and gone home. And a golden retriever without his ball is a very very sad doggy indeed. He would just give us this look, and I knew. His last day with us, we took pictures and loved on him extra-much and made him a whole loaf of banana bread for his very own (he was a notorious baked goods thief- bacon was safe but you better hide the banana bread and cookies!). It was a bittersweet day.
I still miss him
I am so sorry. I think it’s horrible that animals only live for a few short years. They deserve longer for the way that they touch our hearts and brighten our souls.
You and your family are heroes for saving her and giving her some happy memories.
Hugs to the infinity power,
Valerie
As a fellow Dory…safe travels to the Rainbow Bridge, Dory…I have a few furry loved ones there that would love to meet you….
Oh Greg, There are no words. I know because we have a similar appointment this week to say goodbye to our sweet 13 1/2 year old Kodiak. We have already cried buckets of tears…and are spending our last days spoiling the heck out of her!
I can tell you that we went down this road last year with our other dog, and a kind vet makes all the difference. It will be peaceful and she will have you to love on her as she goes. Your family gave her a real life…and I’m certain she is grateful.
You’re a good man Charlie Brown. (Even if you did bring me to tears at 7:00 in the morning).
Hi – I’m so sorry for all your family is going through. There are a couple of good books for kids on losing a pet…Lifetimes is the name of one and The Tenth Good Thing About Barney is the other. Maybe they would help your children? Just a thought. You and yours, grandma, father in law, all are in thoughts and prayers. Good luck tomorrow.
definitely, keep her ashes… i have a little urn with my beloved dog’s ashes in it… at first it was depressing and i didn’t pay it any mind, but now? it’s like a little part of her is still with me, and for this i’m grateful…
Hang in there – I’ve had animals all my life and this is the responsibility we take on to enjoy their company. Thanks for being a responsible pet owner and knowing when the time comes to let go. My heart breaks for you children – but these are lessons we must all learn. It sounds like you and Heather are doing a awesome job with balancing LIFE (in general).
When times get tough the tough get going!
I’m so sorry for your loss.
No words. Just know you and your family are in my thoughts.
Putting a pet down is never an easy task. I am sorry that your family is having a rough time right now, but rest assured things will get better. The tough times are what bring family closer together and you have eachother to to lean for support. I hope your Grandmother and FIL start to get on the mend quickly.
you did a wonderful thing in giving dory the life that she had with you.
in her dog world you guys are spectacular (you’re pretty spectacular in our world, too.) the decision that you’ve made now, while difficult, is the right thing. two weeks ago we had to make the same decision about our 17 year old cat, it was absolutely heartbreaking but his passing allowed us to rescue 3 of his friends! we adopted a 15 month old lab/newfie mix and two orange tabby cats who are brothers. from sorrow comes happiness.
This post needs a tissue alert or disclaimer. I’m totally in tears over here. :*(
So sad about Dory! I had truly hoped she’d get better and be around for awhile. She’s very lucky to have gotten rescued by y’all. I have some very creative things that I’d like to do to the man who put her in that condition, starting with chaining him to a tire, the……. well, I’m sure you feel the same.
We’re gonna miss the Dory stories — give her a hug from all of us too.
So sorry, Greg. I hope that everything that can go well does and that you and your family grow stronger from those things that don’t.
Your family gave Dory a lifetime of happiness and love in such a short amount of time. I think you’re handling the grieving process the right way by involving the kids instead of “sheltering” them.
Aww, I’m sorry. I’ve had to do this with 2 dogs and 3 cats and every time is a new heartbreak. I still miss my dogs, especially, even though I now have new furry companions. You gave Dory the best year of her life and she will die feeling your grace, love and generosity. That’s all any of us can hope for.
I’m sorry your family is dealing with so much right now.
I am truly sorry that all of this is happening to your family. I had a poodle for almost 18 years when we knew it was his time. I had an “in-home pet euthanasia” service send one of their staff vets come out to our home. I got to hold him while sitting on the floor of our bedroom and pet him until he passed peacefully. I received his ashes (delivered to me) and a plaster cast of his paw-print. I still miss my best friend, but once the tears stopped, it got better. I was at peace with the decision I made. Hope you and yours find peace soon.
So sorry for all that your family is going through. Dory would never have known that love and kindness existed, if not for your family; you have done a wonderful thing.
Oh Greg. While there are no comforting words (as I too have had to make that appointment before for my 16 year old cat who had been with me since I was 5 years old… I was 21 when we put him down) it is of some comfort knowing that Dory was loved in her last year more than many dogs are in their entire lives! I don’t think you could ask for a better way to go, than to be wholly loved and cherished as opposed to bound and neglected. You did a good thing!!
Dory will be up in that pet heaven in the sky with my beloved cat Cinnamon. May the romp together like good cats & dogs do. I hope things get easier for you and your family. Oh, and just so you know, I’m a very patient client. Take as much time as you need with your family. I can wait
Seriously.
My goodness, what a summer you’ve had! Almost 3 years ago, I was faced with the same heartwrenching task when we had to have our 14 year-old Husky, Nook, “put down”. We adopted him 2 years earlier when we found him in a loud, smelly, crowded animal shelter after his owners of several years decided they couldn’t deal with him getting old. Even more shocking to us was when the Shelter staff explained that this family had adopted him from a shelter! It was difficult to understand how someone could do that to a pet again. Anyway, I miss him a lot, even now. We had a great 2 years and I hope were happy ones for him.
You can read more about what we lovingly refer to as “The Era of Nook” if you would like. Maybe it will cheer you up a little:
http://toputitsimply.wordpress.com/2007/12/05/tis-the-season-to-be-jolly/
http://toputitsimply.wordpress.com/2007/04/28/the-great-escape-artist-that-is/
http://toputitsimply.wordpress.com/2007/05/23/sorry-folks-slow-week-for-blogs/
http://toputitsimply.wordpress.com/2009/09/23/gone-but-not-forgotten/
I don’t want to make a long-winded post, but I do want to say that what you did for Dory was so touching. It was really commendable and says so much about what kind of people you and your wife are. I’m impressed, and I will be praying for your family. I’m so sorry for the struggles you are having now. But you generosity touched us, and hopefully that love comes back to you now.
I’m not exactly sure what more to say other than that is a lot of stuff on your plate! What you’ve done for Dory is wonderful and I have no doubt after her past treatment she still appreciates everything whether she could hear it or not I’m sure she sensed it. Re Grandma, what about a nice train ride?
Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” was just on Pandora.
I’m in total tears.
Missing my P-Kitty a LOT.
Wishing the best for all of you.
My heart is breaking for you all. I just pray that our dear adopted Maggie will ‘forget’ to wake-up one day.
Everytime she has one of her collapses, my husband rallies her with the gentle advice “If we go to the vet, Maggie, only one of us is coming home.”
Gee, I’ll miss him.
Wow, you have so much going on that as one of your recently added and now faithful readers, I appreciate you taking the time to clue us in. What a great lady your wife is, looking after your grandmother and assisting with her transition. I hope that her dad’s treatments are successful, and well, the van seems to be the least of your worries at the moment although that alone could turn a day from good to bad but for having to cope with all of the other challenges. As for saying goodbye to Dory and “scheduling” her demise, as we had to do with our dog, it is an odd thing. I hope that over time your family’s sadness will fade and the happy memories will stay with you all forever. I’m so sorry about your impending loss.
I am so sorry – but so glad for the months of love you were able to give Dory. You changed her life and I know she changed yours, too.
I’m so sorry, you guys. Is there anything we can do? Hugs, buddy.
I am so sorry for you and your family! What a hard thing to have to do. I think the comfort will come in knowing that your family loved her very much in the short year you had her. My prayers go out to your family.
Cannot read all the other posts, for fear of losing it myself – been through this very thing far too many times, and many more times to come. While it isn’t my place to do so, I still wish to extend a big thank you to your family for “saving” Dory. While none of us can save the world, we can ALL stop and make a difference, even if only to 1 pet at a time. Additionally to give you peace – a friend once relayed to me, perhaps from a famed source “the final gift you can give is to remove their pain, and make it your own”. Indeed, finer words have seldom been spoken. Fly free Dory, please tell my bridge angels that I miss them.
Greg, I just wanted to add my condolences to the many already posted. Like one of the previous commenters, I started following your blog regularly after reading about Dory. I hope things get better for your family very soon.
Losing a pet is so hard, and reading this brought back memories of when we made the hard decision to let my childhood dog go 15 years ago. It’s never easy, it hurts, and my sympathy is with you and your family. Given what else is going on in your lives, I think you all deserve a break, and soon. Take care of yourselves and each other. We’ll all be here.
You’ve done a wonderful thing for Dory. I’ve been in your shoes and had to watch a beloved pet’s life end… you’re never fully prepared for something like that. God bless you and your family at this difficult time.
Good lord, I’m so sorry.
Aww my heart goes out to your family dealing with so many things at once. Poor Dory… you have to know at least one year of true love and happiness made her life so much better. Heather’s father and your Grandmother are in my prayers. Gotta love the tough spirit your Grandma possesses.
hugs to you and your family. We just had to put down our two cats (a month apart) and it was heart-wrenching. One vet was horribly rude to us and made the event the worst thing I have ever gone through. the other was compassionate and caring. Glad you got a good one. I started reading your column when you got Dory and still feel thankful that you were able to rescue and love her – even if for a short time. You are all wonderful people
Greg, and family, My heart is heavy for your loss, one I went through myself two months ago. I still watch for my 12 year old Golden to run across the yard when I get home, to sit at my feet in adoration and just be my companion in life. I think Dory was blessed beyond measure to be found by a compassionate and heartwarming family with the bonus of a sense of humor. We all got to know her little quirks and quarks, like so many of us (and may I mention my Uncle Joe, too) who, as humans, have funny little foibles that Dory symbolized. Love hurts, and, it’s worth it.