Sunday, February 18, 2007

To An Old Dog

Sunday, 18 Feb 2007

Yesterday we put our old dog down. My wife Nancy and I, along with our friends Bucky and Cindy, took Bo on a short drive to the veterinarian, where a large dose of anesthetic stopped his heart. Bo didn't know what was coming, and he was nervous (as he always was) once we reached the vet's office, but he was at peace at the end.

Bo wasn't healthy any longer. He was almost fifteen years old, as old as our house. We adopted him from a shelter that first summer. Our kids were between five and nine years old back then. The kids and Bo grew up together, but as the kids reached their twenties Bo became an old dog. We noticed that he couldn't hear any longer, that his eyes were cloudy, that he never seemed to sleep well, that he whimpered and cried in his sleep, and sometimes barked at nothing for a long, long time.

The vet told us that he wasn't well. One of our friends, who is wise in all things dog, said Bo was showing signs of being disoriented and confused. Like when he barked at the china cabinet for fifteen minutes one night when they were over. What was he - almost 105 years old in human terms (that 7-to-1 ratio of dog to human years)? He was falling apart . . . his time was up. It was our duty to make those all-so-difficult arrangements.

So to you, Bo, you fur-ball, you hairy mongrel, I want to say a couple of things. You were loved - perhaps much more than you could ever know. You were fun to play with. You were our loyal friend, even when your hips no longer allowed you to get up and run to the door when you heard our car coming down the street. You will be missed.

If Heaven includes dogs - and why wouldn't it? - you'll be up there made whole again, waiting to run to us for a petting, playing with the other dogs and being happy.

See ya again, some day.