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My Diary

Goodbye dear friend, we will love you forever

Yesterday afternoon Dr. Steve slid the cool fluid into his long foreleg while he laid in the sunlit grasses, and the ancient essence of Angus breathed slowly out from him and lifted up and away. His great heart ceased.

The evening before, he tried to tell me, but I don't speak dog and I couldn't understand his words. After I got home from work, while he lounged in our sunny front yard with me seated next to him and his doggie brethren nearby, he interrupted the peaceful birdsong quite suddenly to tell me something. His shining eyes pinned mine, and he erupted into measured barks. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF. ... He woofed at me about 40 times or maybe even 60 times. His mouth was about 6 inches from my face. I could smell his breath. He woofed for several long minutes, his gaze never wavering from my eyes. I listened hard, trying to make sense of his communication, but I couldn't. Maybe it had something to do with the appointment.

I had made the vet appointment the day before yesterday, not expecting the end but rather another treatment in a long series of treatments relating to chronic bladder infections. But he had recently lost his appetite and his strength was fading, so we were concerned. He could no longer rise without help. He became very winded after short excursions. His lungs rattled a bit. But he seemed cheerful and interested in daily routines. So we weren't emotionally prepared for the results of his exam.

The first xray yesterday morning showed an ominous mass in his abdomen, about the size of a medium ham, and it crowded his internal organs forward and backward. His heart was quite enlarged. A second barium xray showed that the lobed mass was entwined with large and small intestines, and that it was not something he swallowed. It was a tumor, the doctor said, and it was killing him slowly. His bloodwork substantiated the decline in his systems.

Was he in pain? Probably not a lot of it, if we hadn't seen evidence of it at home. Was it operable? No, and not at any age. How long did he have? Possibly days or a few weeks before the growth forced the complete shutdown of his systems. Would there be an increase in pain? Probably.

We didn't want to put him through that. So we made the hard decision to help him cross over. And the tears began to flow.

Bless you, bless every hair, dear Angus, for 10 years of happy dog love and lessons. You lived a full life, a long life for a giant like yourself, despite your hard early life, your shelter period, your life-threatening food allergies, your bloat surgery, your bites to delivery men and even once to a kind neighbor. We tried to manage your territorial aggression and failed to do it very well or consistently. We tried to manage your food allergies and succeeded finally after years of experimenting. You were a challenge and we learned so much, especially about loving you as you are, without reservation.

I'll be looking for you at the bridge.

Angus is getting old now

Our dear Angus still has a happy spirit, but you can see that walking isn't easy for him anymore. He will be eleven years old in a few months and he has arthritis in his hips, xrays show. Eleven is pretty old for a Great Dane. But his coat is shiny and so are his sparkly eyes. His appetite is good. He still lopes a few strides once in a while on his twice-daily walks. But he can't control his urine anymore. That's what washing machines are for.

He is almost unbearably sweet and cheerful. We love him so.

My Tail of Devotion for Angus

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