Aaaaaaaaad she's back, from the land of 'Broken House Modem' where a surprising amount of stuff gets done. But today, all I can think about is our dog.
Yesterday we kissed our 12 year old Labrador goodbye as he rode the vet's magic injection to the great dog park in the sky, & it is fair to say that the entire BC Family is utterly devastated. This post will be long, & probably maudlin, but I need to get it out so if you need to stop reading, thats fine. We can still be friends.
So. It's not like we didn't have any warning; his arthritus had been getting progressively worse, & at christmas the vet warned us that we should be looking at a date in mid March. Despite visiting several vets the prognosis was always the same - the arthritus was very bad, very painful, & untreatable.
For the last few months Happy Dog has been in an old mans fog of painkillers, needing to be carried up & down stairs a few times a day, unable to get up & crapping where he layed. I don't think the painkillers fogged out his sense of embarrasment at that.
What has made this all so much harder is that apart from the arthritus, he was the same old dog. Same beautiful clean coat, same snuggly warmth, same velvet ears, same sparkling personality & same dry wit. If he was a human, we would have given him a mobility scooter & life would have gone on.
Like most labradors, Happy Dog loved to eat. We knew this could give him weight problems & that this breed where prone to arthritus, so we where careful about his diet. Despite his best efforts, he was never overwieght. Despite sneaking cat food in the middle of the night (When you close your eyes, dog, I can still see you! Stop eating that!!), despite mooching food off any unsuspecting visitor (& those that knew better) with the hypnotising give to to meeeee dog stare & the occasional naughty scattering of garbage in the night to get at chicken carcasses, his health was good. I cooked his food every week (pasta, veges, raw mince & garlic for fleas) which he happily scarfed up every night. Weekly bones kept his teeth in tip top condition, right to the end. Even the knee high stocking that he stole off the washing line didn't effect him too much, even if it did have to be pulled from his arse like a magicians scarf, at the dog park. (try explaining that to horrified dog park goers).
He got lots of exercise until he couldn't anymore. Daily & sometimes twice daily long walks to the dog park, the golf course (plenty of rabbits to chase hooray!), dodging council rangers at the beach in the pre dawn light, & the headland where the ocean wind got into his ears & made him crazy. Lots of galooting around the yard with Mr BC.
But despite all of this, despite having a winter coat custom made, despite having a birthday partys, being loved & celebrated so much....now he is gone.
Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief, & I have aways joked that when Happy Dogs number is up we will need family grief counselling. But I think we will be ok, eventually.
Mr BC cried, & came home for a beer. Which is actually unusual for him.
I cried, then came home & cried in the shower. Then cried. Now I am blogging.
Teenage daughter came with us to the vet, & kept it togethor. Then came home & sat in the doorway in the sun, exactly where the dog used to sit, hugging to herself.
Monkeyboy says (heart breakingly) 'Why are you sad, Mummy? Happy Dog be here soon!' No, darling, he isn't coming back. (resolutely) 'He BE HERE soon!'
We thought going to the vet would be too intense for The Gentleman, who is after all, only 6. I think this was a mistake & we should have let him come, because he is the worst hit of all of us.
So there you go. I know dog lovers & anyone with a pet will understand how we feel that our dog was the best pet ever, because you will feel the same about yours.
Our dog, the best pet ever, is gone, & we are heartbroken.
Thanks for reading, blog friends.
Love,
Mrs BC
xxx