How time flies.
One week ago, I had to go through one of the most difficult days of my life so far.
Six years ago, my dog Lucky got really sick. He had a massive cancerous growth in his stomach and the vet said that the operation to remove it would be quite touch and go. If the growth was too entangled with his intestines, operating could be quite dangerous and Lucky could die during the procedure. Fortunately, the growth was clear of all the important bits and pieces, it got removed, and everything was fine again.
As tends to happen with cancer, it slowly came back over the years and this time it was too widespread to remove completely. Lucky was also getting older and older, to the point where we weren't sure if he could have handled another major operation. He seemed absolutely fine though, up until a couple of years ago. Every time I visited my parents' house last year and this year, I could see him slowly deteriorating more and more. It wasn't until around the middle of this year that it finally sunk in that Lucky was no longer my little puppy, and that his time was coming.
On Sunday the 5th of October, I went over to visit Lucky and he looked so weak. He could barely walk, seemed disinterested in pretty much everything - Mum said he had barely eaten or had anything to drink in about a week - and had total physical and mental exhaustion written all over him.
On Monday the 6th of October, I got a call shortly after getting home from work from my family. Lucky had almost lost the ability to stand up altogether, let alone walk, and he had started getting seizures. Rory was kind enough to rush me back to Vermont South, with me blubbering almost the entire way. As soon as I saw him I knew that his time was no longer coming - his time was finally here.
We were fortunate enough to find a vet who made house calls after hours so Lucky could spend his last minutes at home, surrounded by his family.
Lucky was such an important part of my world for over 15 years, even though I didn't get to see him that often after I moved out a couple of years ago. It was love at first sight when I picked him out of a room full of other puppies vying for my attention. He was there for me throughout the worst year of my life, when I had nobody else to turn to and I poured my heart out to him because I knew he wouldn't judge me, he wouldn't argue back, he would sit patiently and listen to all I had to say. He would instinctively know when I was sad because I would be crying in my bedroom and hear the little jingle of his nametag, and I'd look up and he'd be standing there ready to curl up next to me. He was there throughout the happiest years of my life, he brought so many countless smiles to my face, and made me laugh so much with his goofy mannerisms and the cute things he would do (which was pretty much everything). It may sound stupid, but he was my rock - my constant, the one I could always turn to and depend on. For such a little pup he had such a great big heart, and I can only hope that he understood that I loved him unconditionally in return for his own unconditional love.
Six years ago, I wrote this.
One week ago, I watched the vet inject the blue-green fluid into Lucky's body, and within five seconds, it was over. He was gone.
It's very, very, VERY slowly getting easier as each day goes by, but it still hurts so much. God it hurts. Like every time I think about it, there is a literal pain in my heart. I'm looking forward to the day when I can think about him and smile every time, instead of crying.
I'm not really one to believe in the afterlife, but for Lucky I would gladly make an exception. I like to think that wherever he is now, it's a beautiful sunny day with a nice breeze, and he's in a giant park playing with all his pup friends who have come and gone. He gets to play fetch with a tennis ball that isn't completely covered in fur/carpet, and he gets to eat as much kabana as he wants to without the risk of obesity or heart disease. He's tearing across the grass, this little white ball of fluff flying across the park with his ears flapping and a goofy smile on his face.
13/09/1993 - 06/10/2008
Run like the wind, my fuzzy little friend.
Six years ago, my dog Lucky got really sick. He had a massive cancerous growth in his stomach and the vet said that the operation to remove it would be quite touch and go. If the growth was too entangled with his intestines, operating could be quite dangerous and Lucky could die during the procedure. Fortunately, the growth was clear of all the important bits and pieces, it got removed, and everything was fine again.
As tends to happen with cancer, it slowly came back over the years and this time it was too widespread to remove completely. Lucky was also getting older and older, to the point where we weren't sure if he could have handled another major operation. He seemed absolutely fine though, up until a couple of years ago. Every time I visited my parents' house last year and this year, I could see him slowly deteriorating more and more. It wasn't until around the middle of this year that it finally sunk in that Lucky was no longer my little puppy, and that his time was coming.
On Sunday the 5th of October, I went over to visit Lucky and he looked so weak. He could barely walk, seemed disinterested in pretty much everything - Mum said he had barely eaten or had anything to drink in about a week - and had total physical and mental exhaustion written all over him.
On Monday the 6th of October, I got a call shortly after getting home from work from my family. Lucky had almost lost the ability to stand up altogether, let alone walk, and he had started getting seizures. Rory was kind enough to rush me back to Vermont South, with me blubbering almost the entire way. As soon as I saw him I knew that his time was no longer coming - his time was finally here.
We were fortunate enough to find a vet who made house calls after hours so Lucky could spend his last minutes at home, surrounded by his family.
Lucky was such an important part of my world for over 15 years, even though I didn't get to see him that often after I moved out a couple of years ago. It was love at first sight when I picked him out of a room full of other puppies vying for my attention. He was there for me throughout the worst year of my life, when I had nobody else to turn to and I poured my heart out to him because I knew he wouldn't judge me, he wouldn't argue back, he would sit patiently and listen to all I had to say. He would instinctively know when I was sad because I would be crying in my bedroom and hear the little jingle of his nametag, and I'd look up and he'd be standing there ready to curl up next to me. He was there throughout the happiest years of my life, he brought so many countless smiles to my face, and made me laugh so much with his goofy mannerisms and the cute things he would do (which was pretty much everything). It may sound stupid, but he was my rock - my constant, the one I could always turn to and depend on. For such a little pup he had such a great big heart, and I can only hope that he understood that I loved him unconditionally in return for his own unconditional love.
Six years ago, I wrote this.
One week ago, I watched the vet inject the blue-green fluid into Lucky's body, and within five seconds, it was over. He was gone.
It's very, very, VERY slowly getting easier as each day goes by, but it still hurts so much. God it hurts. Like every time I think about it, there is a literal pain in my heart. I'm looking forward to the day when I can think about him and smile every time, instead of crying.
I'm not really one to believe in the afterlife, but for Lucky I would gladly make an exception. I like to think that wherever he is now, it's a beautiful sunny day with a nice breeze, and he's in a giant park playing with all his pup friends who have come and gone. He gets to play fetch with a tennis ball that isn't completely covered in fur/carpet, and he gets to eat as much kabana as he wants to without the risk of obesity or heart disease. He's tearing across the grass, this little white ball of fluff flying across the park with his ears flapping and a goofy smile on his face.
13/09/1993 - 06/10/2008
Run like the wind, my fuzzy little friend.