totally, utterly heartbroken
today my father called and made an appointment for a man with a needle to inject my puppy so that he can sleep forever. next wednesday at 6:45.
for much of my childhood, i begged for a dog. i watched lady and the tramp on repeat from ages four through six. when i played "house" with my friends in nursery school and kindergarten, i chose to be the dog instead of the "mom" or "the sister" or "the baby". I crawled around my house with a leash (usually a shoelace) tied to my wrist. My mom didn't let me tie things around my neck. The first item on every birthday list and every christmas list was a puppy from the time i knew what dogs were. My parents finally decided they were ready when I was ten. My mom told me that if i wanted one, i had to do the work. So after deciding on a breed (Pembroke Welsh Corgis- smart, intelligent, portable) ten year old Victoria called breeder after breeder on the AKC (American Kennel Club) list of certified Corgi breeders asking if anyone had a litter; if anyone had a puppy for me. We finally found one- Cindy Savioli. She had a litter of tri-colored ones. Half were normal, half had a serious defect in their coats. they were healthy dogs, but they had the full coats of collies, and were called "Fluffies". They could never be shown, but were great pets. Cindy had named the dogs after black superstars. They were born on June 19, 1995; the night of the OJ Simpson white blazer chase. She had Julius (irving), Oprah, Whitney, Michael, Aretha, and of course, OJ. We almost took OJ, a fluffy home for no other reason than i thought it would be funny if our dog's kennel name was OJ. The breeder's husband, Vince, pointed us towards Julius, the other male fluffy. "He's a real sweetheart" he said. We took him home on August 19th. I was so excited I couldn't even sleep the night before. Julius became Max. I fed him and bathed him, and picked up his poop every day. I took him on walks around the neighborhood. I was the happiest kid alive. He was my dog.
As I got busier throughout high school, my mom took over more responsibilities. But i still fed him every night. He slept in my bed eventually, until he got too big, and snored too much. He's the most mellow dog in the world. A herding dog by nature, he would run laps around our kitchen and dining room tables when he got excited. At dinnertime, when he heard me get out the can opener, he would grab one of his stuffed toys, and throw it high over his head, and again, he'd run laps. He has been a food hound all his life. We were able to teach him so many tricks because he's ridiculously smart, and was well motivated by food. He could sit, lie down, give paw, roll over, "get in his bed", get a toy, "find mommy" and sit up on his hind legs. he caught treats in his mouth like a pro. He loved to swim, and would always get upset when people were in the pool. he'd run circles around our pool until his paws bled, barking and jumping in when he could.
We got Gwen two years after we brought Max home. My mom had wanted a second dog. Corgis often come in pairs. She was a little more high strung, and tolerable as an animal. She demanded attention at all times, but we never let her hog it from Max.
Max was diagnosed with epilepsy five years ago. He had tons of seizures before we got his medication right. He even had a seizure in my bed once... which wasn't pretty considering he usually lost control of his bladder. The medication he was on made him diabetic, and so we began injecting him night and day with insulin. The diabetes caused him to be blind, and though he knew his way around our house, he became disoriented, and would bump into furniture. In the past year, his physical health has been on the decline. The phenobarbital he takes for his seizures has stopped the seizures altogether, but has rendered his hind end almost useless. He was always lazy, and with the disability, he was even less inclined to get up. It started out that we had to coax and motivate him. Then, we had to actually stand him up and get him going. Now, we have to lift him anywhere we need him to go, and make sure he doesn't fall over if he needs to be standing up. If he's feeling motivated, he'll drag himself around like a little seal. Usually, this isn't the case.
It's the right thing to do. He has no quality of life. He seems to be "there" emotionally, but he'll stay in the same spot for 18 hours on end if we didn't come and move him. He still eats, but his stare is vacant. I don't know if he's in pain or not. He doesn't cry. But he's not the dog I used to know... he's just sort of hanging on.
It's so very sad. For the past twelve years, he's been my dog. He's been a member of our family. And next wednesday, he'll be gone.
for much of my childhood, i begged for a dog. i watched lady and the tramp on repeat from ages four through six. when i played "house" with my friends in nursery school and kindergarten, i chose to be the dog instead of the "mom" or "the sister" or "the baby". I crawled around my house with a leash (usually a shoelace) tied to my wrist. My mom didn't let me tie things around my neck. The first item on every birthday list and every christmas list was a puppy from the time i knew what dogs were. My parents finally decided they were ready when I was ten. My mom told me that if i wanted one, i had to do the work. So after deciding on a breed (Pembroke Welsh Corgis- smart, intelligent, portable) ten year old Victoria called breeder after breeder on the AKC (American Kennel Club) list of certified Corgi breeders asking if anyone had a litter; if anyone had a puppy for me. We finally found one- Cindy Savioli. She had a litter of tri-colored ones. Half were normal, half had a serious defect in their coats. they were healthy dogs, but they had the full coats of collies, and were called "Fluffies". They could never be shown, but were great pets. Cindy had named the dogs after black superstars. They were born on June 19, 1995; the night of the OJ Simpson white blazer chase. She had Julius (irving), Oprah, Whitney, Michael, Aretha, and of course, OJ. We almost took OJ, a fluffy home for no other reason than i thought it would be funny if our dog's kennel name was OJ. The breeder's husband, Vince, pointed us towards Julius, the other male fluffy. "He's a real sweetheart" he said. We took him home on August 19th. I was so excited I couldn't even sleep the night before. Julius became Max. I fed him and bathed him, and picked up his poop every day. I took him on walks around the neighborhood. I was the happiest kid alive. He was my dog.
As I got busier throughout high school, my mom took over more responsibilities. But i still fed him every night. He slept in my bed eventually, until he got too big, and snored too much. He's the most mellow dog in the world. A herding dog by nature, he would run laps around our kitchen and dining room tables when he got excited. At dinnertime, when he heard me get out the can opener, he would grab one of his stuffed toys, and throw it high over his head, and again, he'd run laps. He has been a food hound all his life. We were able to teach him so many tricks because he's ridiculously smart, and was well motivated by food. He could sit, lie down, give paw, roll over, "get in his bed", get a toy, "find mommy" and sit up on his hind legs. he caught treats in his mouth like a pro. He loved to swim, and would always get upset when people were in the pool. he'd run circles around our pool until his paws bled, barking and jumping in when he could.
We got Gwen two years after we brought Max home. My mom had wanted a second dog. Corgis often come in pairs. She was a little more high strung, and tolerable as an animal. She demanded attention at all times, but we never let her hog it from Max.
Max was diagnosed with epilepsy five years ago. He had tons of seizures before we got his medication right. He even had a seizure in my bed once... which wasn't pretty considering he usually lost control of his bladder. The medication he was on made him diabetic, and so we began injecting him night and day with insulin. The diabetes caused him to be blind, and though he knew his way around our house, he became disoriented, and would bump into furniture. In the past year, his physical health has been on the decline. The phenobarbital he takes for his seizures has stopped the seizures altogether, but has rendered his hind end almost useless. He was always lazy, and with the disability, he was even less inclined to get up. It started out that we had to coax and motivate him. Then, we had to actually stand him up and get him going. Now, we have to lift him anywhere we need him to go, and make sure he doesn't fall over if he needs to be standing up. If he's feeling motivated, he'll drag himself around like a little seal. Usually, this isn't the case.
It's the right thing to do. He has no quality of life. He seems to be "there" emotionally, but he'll stay in the same spot for 18 hours on end if we didn't come and move him. He still eats, but his stare is vacant. I don't know if he's in pain or not. He doesn't cry. But he's not the dog I used to know... he's just sort of hanging on.
It's so very sad. For the past twelve years, he's been my dog. He's been a member of our family. And next wednesday, he'll be gone.