Roughly an hour ago, I put Whiskey, our beloved Labrador for seven years, inside three plastic bags I bought at a convenient store earlier before heading home from my girlfriend's house. Since he's a large dog, I had to buy a bag that 's around 18" in length and height to make sure he fits.
A couple of minutes before that, I watched Whiskey from our groto as he struggled to stand up, walked a couple of steps with his legs wobbly, urinated while standing, and walked a couple more to the corner until his legs finally gave out. I patted and caressed his head while saying things like "I'm sorry" and "It's all right" because there is nothing more I could do. Facing the wall, Whiskey stared to burn a hole through it, struggling to make his breaths count. Finally, he exhaled long enough for me to see his soul pass through his nose and rise up just to disperse in the air. I just looked on as he wheezed seven more short breathes before he finally caved in.
Four days ago, I learned that Whiskey was no longer taking in food and water. Due to the wear and tear of his body, attempts for a cure have been futile. It was only a matter of time now.
Two years ago, he contracted a blood disease due to excessive mosquitoes bites at our place. He lost considerable amount of weight because he didn't eat anything we give him. We then sent him to a clinic where he was confined for observation. When he returned to our house, there's a 50% chance he may not survive the disease. Injected with IV fluids, he was treated to a steady amount of medicine prescribed by the vet and fed with bread from the kitchen. While working strange hours during my work-at-home job around this time, I shifted from my laptop to where Whiskey was in the middle of the night just to see if he's okay. Days later, he recovered and was back to his jolly self.
In 2006, some of Whiskey's hobbies was to gnaw at my Uncle's slippers and tear up old newsletter lying outside. Whether it was done intentionally or to spite us, no one will ever know. Too bad I'll never be able to see him do those again.
A couple of minutes before that, I watched Whiskey from our groto as he struggled to stand up, walked a couple of steps with his legs wobbly, urinated while standing, and walked a couple more to the corner until his legs finally gave out. I patted and caressed his head while saying things like "I'm sorry" and "It's all right" because there is nothing more I could do. Facing the wall, Whiskey stared to burn a hole through it, struggling to make his breaths count. Finally, he exhaled long enough for me to see his soul pass through his nose and rise up just to disperse in the air. I just looked on as he wheezed seven more short breathes before he finally caved in.
Four days ago, I learned that Whiskey was no longer taking in food and water. Due to the wear and tear of his body, attempts for a cure have been futile. It was only a matter of time now.
Two years ago, he contracted a blood disease due to excessive mosquitoes bites at our place. He lost considerable amount of weight because he didn't eat anything we give him. We then sent him to a clinic where he was confined for observation. When he returned to our house, there's a 50% chance he may not survive the disease. Injected with IV fluids, he was treated to a steady amount of medicine prescribed by the vet and fed with bread from the kitchen. While working strange hours during my work-at-home job around this time, I shifted from my laptop to where Whiskey was in the middle of the night just to see if he's okay. Days later, he recovered and was back to his jolly self.
In 2006, some of Whiskey's hobbies was to gnaw at my Uncle's slippers and tear up old newsletter lying outside. Whether it was done intentionally or to spite us, no one will ever know. Too bad I'll never be able to see him do those again.
I feel your pain. i lost a best friend when I lost my sheltie. Take comfort in knowing you did everything you could for him, and that you gave him a loving home for his time on this earth.
ReplyDeleteThanks for you kind words, Felice.
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