February 01, 2005
i did it once
It had to be done. Enough was enough. I couldn't stand to see him suffer any longer. And I didn't want anybody else to do it.
I dug the hole first. I made it nice and deep and straight-sided. It was a good grave.
I lured the dog outside with a steak-bone and he was grateful for the treat, even though he didn't have enough teeth to chew it anymore. I petted him while he gnawed contententedly. I looked at the sky and thought about all the good times we had shared together. Then, I laid the pistol behind his ear and pulled the trigger.
He went down like a sack of rocks and I didn't have to shoot again. He was dead, with that steak-bone still in his mouth. I hauled him over to the hole in the ground and buried him. Once I had him planted, I sat on that fresh mound of dirt and I cried like a baby. I killed my fucking dog. I KILLED MY FUCKING DOG!!! If you've never done that, I don't give a shit what you have to say.
The old bastard was deaf, blind and almost toothless. He couldn't control his bladder anymore. He was going to keel over any day. So, I took him out--- while he was munching a steak-bone and being petted by somebody he loved. He never knew what hit him.
And if I did wrong that day, you'll never make me believe it.
I cried like a damn baby when I had to take
our dog to be put down.
The hard part is that the Vet will NEVER tell
you when "it's time." You have to know your
dog and love it so much that you will end its
life rather than see it suffer one more minute.
That's what you do when you care about
another life and have spent years caring for
I've had dogs, and I've had cats. Losing a cat you're attached to sucks, but losing a dog you're attached to hurts for a long, long time. I still remember every dog I've ever had, and I always want to have dogs. Cats? Can take or leave them. They're good for catching things that are small and furry, climbing trees... and being annoying.
Dogs are companions, though, and I understand where you're coming from. I'll never forget any of my dogs. Ever. I'll never replace them, either. I'll get new dogs, but they won't replace the old.
You done right. I did the same to my old pal 4 months ago. Dug a hole while he ate a cooked steak. I was lucky to a vet for a cousin and had a needle but it was damn hard. I swore I'd never have another dog again but I'm a liar.
You made that shit up.
Posted by Acidman at February 1, 2005 09:17 PM
Aww hell, I'd put you down if your life was ever that miserable.
How about tomorrow?
I did the same for my wife's dog, who was kind enough to her to wait until she was visiting her folks out of town before he keeled over., organs barely functioning.
My wife found him tied to a bus stop in the snow in New York City. She saw him for hours, clearly abandoned. Nearly dead tail and borderline glacomic. She listed him on her university employee HMO plan as a dependent so she could get meds for his eyes. She paid for one eye to be removed... then the other. The dog learned the lay of the house just fine and managed for over a year 100% blind.
Except it wasn't with a gun. I live in Los Angeles. I had to take him to the vet.
My wife still thanks me and the dog for sparing her the sight. of his last day.
There's nothing wrong with what you did. A lot of people find it offensive because it's not the sterile but peaceful way that most of us have grown accustomed to. I, personally, couldn't do such a thing without being haunted by the visual memories for the rest of my life.
Two pups bad case of parvo-virus totally broke no money for medication two shots cried then and now.
I had to do the same recently. The daughter found him lying in piss and shit and crying. I was a real wussie and wanted to wait and see if it got better. The wife was more practical and pointed out that the time was now. So I'm looking in my gun cabinet and trying to decide when she says "Why don't you use one of your handguns; wouldn't it be easier on you?" I don't know where this logic came from, but I realised it wasn't about me, it was about my friend. I closed the gun cabinet and got the Winchester 1200 out of the closet (pump 12 gauge shotgun set up for social work). He stopped crying when I petted him for the last time. I haven't.
The daughter made him a nice marker and I see it every day at the edge of the property. One day she will leave me, but the marker will stay. I'll make sure of it.
I can only hope that when the time comes and I'm unable, I will have a friend to offer the same kindness.
God, Rob, I know how you felt. I killed my dog. I was 17, and Wolfgang was almost that old. He had been with me for years, and he was nearly deaf, 90% blind, and in love with me. I was poor and vet care was out of the question. After the act of mercy, he lingered for a few seconds. Can you believe that dog actually licked my hand as he lay dying? I had my hand on his chest and I felt his heartbeat getting slower, and slower, and then, nothing. I still see that dog in my dreams from time to time, and he's happy every time. It was a long goodbye, and a brutal one.
That was my father's method. I don't judge it, but I don't care for it. I'll pay the sixty dollars for the injection. I lost too many pets to his gun...healthy ones.
Rob, that was a fine example of being a man.
Been there and done that. Once with a pup that was born minus rectum and again just 6 months ago with my 15-year old Lab. Hurts, but I know they're waiting for me at the Bridge.
I was lucky, I was able to avail myself of the services of a vet and give my best friend the ease of a needle.
That was 13 months ago, and I still have a sadness filled episode a minimum at least once a week when I catch myself thinking about him.
My daughter won't say his name, just "you know who" when referring to him. She thinks it spares me some pain.
Like Tom S said, I'll have other dogs, but he'll never be replaced.
I had a beagle growing up and my mom had a chihuahua. I loved my beagle, and I have to admit, I loved that stupid yippy-dog, too. When I left for my freshman year of college, both were still kicking, but they were decidedly gray. When I returned home for Thanksgiving, I noticed that my beagle wasn't running around in the back yard. When we got inside, I noticed that my mom's yippy-dog wasn't yipping at me and attacking my shoes. I asked her where the dogs were and she told me:
Both our dogs had died shortly after I left home.
That was a very sad Thanksgiving. However, I was, and will always be thankful for all the good times I had with my dog --- all the times he knocked up the neighborhood bitches, all the times he proudly ate a toad or a bird, and all the times he ate his chow so fast he barfed. I will also fondly remember all the times that stupid chihuahua bit my hand, shat in the kitchen, and yakked on the sofa. Good memories are made of this.
Rob, that was a fine example of being a man.
And that's the truth.
I sat on the floor of my kitchen last night with my .380 in Carol's ear. Couldn't do it. My vet is coming in the morning.
I wonder why.