Damages

When you lose a loved one, the day it happens you feel like there may never be an end to the pain or the sorrow. You've cried yourself out - your head aches, you can't breathe properly and you feel as though you've been pummeled from head to toe.

And surprisingly, when you wake the next morning - you are surprised to find that you might make it through the day.

Amazing.

We had to make the decision to let go of our dear friend and companion. He left us yesterday morning at the ministrations of our veterinarian. And we were with him when he slipped away.

The frail, nearly skeletal dog we rescued more than three years ago and nursed back to health and trust was gone.

Dutch is my husband's dog - almost from day one. When we brought him home, he was a shell of an animal. Shar Peis bind almost fatally with their owners - if they are separated, they can actually die from grief.

Dutch was not far away - he was curled like an embryo, his ribs protruding, his head and tail tucked low. The photo at the right was taken at the shelter - Pets Alive - on the day we adopted him.

When he came to our home - that week between Christmas and New Years - our first rescue and first Shar Pei, Boris, having died the week before, preceding Christmas. We felt a little ghoulish, but it also felt like we were honoring Boris' memory by finding another rescue, like him, and offering our home and our hearts to another poor soul.

He was nine when he arrived here - or so the vet guesses, since we have no definitive evidence. Dutch is missing an eye - the result of a traffic accident in New York City (where he's from, by the way) as evidenced by his scarred and badly healed front leg and shoulder on the same side. Oh - the eye was still there - it just stopped working and shriveled from the trauma.

Dutch also had the WORST overbite in mammalian history - we're talking nearly a 1 inch difference between his lower and upper teeth, making him a snaggle-toothed mess.

And he had a heart murmur - making him ineligible for any correction to any of his myriad of issues - not even a teeth cleaning.

When we brought him home, all he wanted to was to be left alone. We didn't push him - we fed him and walked him, but demanded nothing else of him. And on New Year's eve, with Brian lying next to him on the floor, he bestowed a brief but grateful kiss on Brian's cheek (or nose, I forget which). It was the one and only time in his remaining years that he'd ever do that.

And now he's left us. Cushing's disease, contracted over the last year, made him cough, almost non-stop, every waking hour. The initial therapy nearly killed him - but the shock of it made him more alert and aware, and somehow he suddenly grew closer to us.

The coughing got worse and we tried everything from cough syrups to prescription narcotics to keep him comfortable. He wasn't in pain. He ate well enough - even muscled out the puppies for their food bowls or their rawhide chews.

And he was still Dutch - loving, affectionate and alert.

But then something changed. He began to lose weight dramatically, and he would become confused and distant - sometimes falling asleep standing up, in the middle of the room. His toe nails shattered, exposing the quicks. And his coughing turned to gagging. Choking for breath.

We knew it had to be done, But we so did not want to.

But that's the other side - the responsibilities that are not always top of mind when you see that hopeful face in the shelter cage, those desperate eyes looking at you and craving your love and approval and company.

You don't think about the fact that you need to take responsibility that goes well beyond care and feeding and exercise.

You may have to decide when it is time for your beloved companion and friend to go. And it fucking sucks. No way around it.

But you are responsible for that trusting friend - you have to prevent and minimize any pain or anguish in their lives and you are solely responsible for their quality of life.

So you suck it up. You hug and cry. You caress and kiss the warm but lifeless form goodbye.

And you go on. But you never forget.

We love you, buddy.