The dog in the stars
No stories about dogs’ lives have happy endings.
My wife and I were reminded of this Tuesday morning as we sat side-by-side in our veterinarian’s office with our gallant Australian shepherd dog, Petey, stretched across our laps. First, the doctor gave Petey a shot to relax him. Then, about 15 minutes later, when Petey was all but asleep, the vet gave him a shot to send his soul soaring to Orion’s side, where he’ll romp forever among the stars.
We’d known this day was nearing. Arthritis had long been sapping Petey’s strength, but until this spring, steroids had evened the battle. Then, Petey slipped and tore out a toenail. That led to a bone infection. Antibiotics cleared the infection, but the meds were tough on his digestive tract. Through it all, though, Petey’s spirits remained bright. He still was a happy dog, happy just to be around us. This past Saturday, my wife said he had a “jack-o’-lantern face” because it was glowing with joy as he lay in his favorite spot on the deck, eyes scanning the neighborhood, the sunshine and breeze caressing him. Still, we always knew that with a 14-year-old dog, his health would only worsen. That happened Sunday, when his kidneys abruptly failed.
It’s been less then 24 hours since Sherry and I tearfully whispered in Petey’s ear that we loved him, that his “sisters” Electra and Melissa and “brother” King were waiting for him, that we’d see him again in a place where we would have no worries forever. These times since that awful moment are the toughest hours. Yesterday afternoon, as we drove home from leaving our “awesome Aussie” at the place where he’ll be cremated, Sherry slumped against the passenger-side door, convulsed in sobs, so full of grief that hardly any could escape, and I had that terrible feeling of being utterly unable to comfort her. Then, last night, I hopped out of bed and was going to lean down and stroke Petey’s head, a longstanding habit. I felt that kicked-in-the-heart sensation when I remembered Petey was gone.
He only weighed about 45 pounds, but today, I realize how truly big he was: The house seems so empty without him.
My wife and I were reminded of this Tuesday morning as we sat side-by-side in our veterinarian’s office with our gallant Australian shepherd dog, Petey, stretched across our laps. First, the doctor gave Petey a shot to relax him. Then, about 15 minutes later, when Petey was all but asleep, the vet gave him a shot to send his soul soaring to Orion’s side, where he’ll romp forever among the stars.
We’d known this day was nearing. Arthritis had long been sapping Petey’s strength, but until this spring, steroids had evened the battle. Then, Petey slipped and tore out a toenail. That led to a bone infection. Antibiotics cleared the infection, but the meds were tough on his digestive tract. Through it all, though, Petey’s spirits remained bright. He still was a happy dog, happy just to be around us. This past Saturday, my wife said he had a “jack-o’-lantern face” because it was glowing with joy as he lay in his favorite spot on the deck, eyes scanning the neighborhood, the sunshine and breeze caressing him. Still, we always knew that with a 14-year-old dog, his health would only worsen. That happened Sunday, when his kidneys abruptly failed.
It’s been less then 24 hours since Sherry and I tearfully whispered in Petey’s ear that we loved him, that his “sisters” Electra and Melissa and “brother” King were waiting for him, that we’d see him again in a place where we would have no worries forever. These times since that awful moment are the toughest hours. Yesterday afternoon, as we drove home from leaving our “awesome Aussie” at the place where he’ll be cremated, Sherry slumped against the passenger-side door, convulsed in sobs, so full of grief that hardly any could escape, and I had that terrible feeling of being utterly unable to comfort her. Then, last night, I hopped out of bed and was going to lean down and stroke Petey’s head, a longstanding habit. I felt that kicked-in-the-heart sensation when I remembered Petey was gone.
He only weighed about 45 pounds, but today, I realize how truly big he was: The house seems so empty without him.