Did you cry when your pet died? (euthanize, animal, natural)
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My ol' dog, Scout, of 15 or so years had to be put down after suffering a stroke. She was a mutt, a Bouvier/Black Lab mix, and rather large, and my best friend. We were so close, I didn't even have to talk to her. It was all eye contact and body language. Of course I talked to her, but it wasn't necessary. She had done such an amzing job protecting our family, be it from an intruder, to stopping a family squabble. Here's a bit of a, long story for ya.....lol. If ya just want to skip to the sad part, it's at the bottom.
The family squabbles? Well, say my brother and I were yelling at eachother about something, she would take off, and then come back with one of the persons shoes, make damn sure you saw and would take off again. If you kept yelling and didn't follow, she'd come back. But this time she'd start chewing them up. You go for your show, and she'd take off.
Just to get ya to stop fighting. There were other things, but that was always the funniest.
The intruder, was a mentally handicapped guy, who used to ride around on his bike asking folks in the neighbourhood for pop bottles, cans, stuff like that. Well, one morning he came to the door and asked my mom for bottles. She said we didn't have any, and this dude flipped out. Screaming that she was lying, and then shoved her to the floor almost sending her down the basement stairs upside down and head first. That's when we decided we'd better get Scout. The guy at the other corner always had these massive Bouviers and Labs, so he gave us Scout for free (he's also my mechanic now...wierd, huh?).
Anyway, at 8 weeks old, and only living with us for one of those.....pop bottle Joe returned, dispite a warning from the Police. He banged on the door, scaring the hell outta my mom; and then what do I hear? This deep, authorative, shouldn't be coming from a puppy "BAROW WO! WO! WO! WO! WO! WO! WO!" (get-the-eff-off-my-property!).
Joe never came back, and never knew he was scared off by an 8 week old. lol Years later, another "intruder" of sorts, was a drunk friend of my dad's who came over unannounced one night while I was alone, sick on the couch. Scout was stuffed under the living room table next to me, when we heard the door open. She growled and I hear "Hello? Hello?!". She starts barking now, that same bark as above, but now coming from a 6 year old dog, that looks roughly like this Google Maps ...That's her cousin, Ben. So, as she's shimmying out from under the table, warning this guy all the while that he is in danger, I hear it again..."hello? hello?" and I'm thinking...get out dummy, get out while you can. Then I heard the storm door close, and "hello" called out again. Now she's free of the table, and on her way....still giving warning to get out. The barking stops, and I hear "AHH! OW!OW!" *riiiiiiiiip!* "OW! PLEASE!!"........and then silence. Well, whoever it is is dead now, I figure. I get to the hall at the front door, to find my dads friend standing up, pinned in the corner. He had one of those real heavy duty, thick flanal jackets. The right arm was ripped from the cuff to just above the elbow, a 3 inch by 2 inch chunck of forearm was missing.....and boy, did he have the fear of God in his eyes.
That's when I realised why Scout wasn't barking, or growling.....or even moving. She had her ENTIRE muzzle, burried in his junk. I mean, her eyeballs were about an inch from his guts. Never taught her that.
So, the sad part of the story. As I said, she suffered a stroke. It was unreal seeing my best friend, my bodyguard, this lumbering beast, unable to even hold herself up to go to the bathroom. The worst part of all, is she was still completly with it. We knew she just couldn't go on like this at 15 years old, and the decision was made to put her down. The night before, I sat and prayed with her. I'm not deeply religious, but she deserved it.
I for one, couldn't be there. I didn't want to see her even brought out of the house. I had to work that morning, and had to have my car at the shop afterwards. I told my mom to be sure it was done before I got home. I gave her a great big hug, said my good-byes, and left for work. After work, I went to the mechanic....which, oddly, was across the street from the vet where she was. It was a GORGIOUS sunny day, when all of a sudden, it clouded right over and POURED. I'm talkin' cats n' dogs, torrential pouring. I looked up at the clock and remember seeing that it was 3:30pm. Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped again. Clouds rolled out and we were back to a beautiful day, better infact. Strange, I thought, and looked up at the clock again. 3:32.
I get home, and my mom was standing in the back hall waiting. I could see she'd been crying, and I welled up a bit. I turned to go in my room, and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw mom had laid Scouts collar on my bed, along with the "death certificate". That's when it all became so real; she was gone. I bawled. Baaaaawled like a baby.
Clutching her collar, I looked at the.......well, let's face it, it's a receipt.
Time of injection: 3:30hrs
Time of death: 3:32hrs
Wierd, right?!?!?!?!
Going to sleep that night though, without having to fight Scout for the covers, much less get on the bed in the first place (lol....that bone head)....it wasn't easy. Her collar has been around the steering column of every car I've ever had since then. Except the Jeep....cause I'm scared someone will steal the collar.
My ol' dog, Scout, of 15 or so years had to be put down after suffering a stroke. She was a mutt, a Bouvier/Black Lab mix, and rather large, and my best friend. We were so close, I didn't even have to talk to her. It was all eye contact and body language. Of course I talked to her, but it wasn't necessary. She had done such an amzing job protecting our family, be it from an intruder, to stopping a family squabble. Here's a bit of a, long story for ya.....lol. If ya just want to skip to the sad part, it's at the bottom.
The family squabbles? Well, say my brother and I were yelling at eachother about something, she would take off, and then come back with one of the persons shoes, make damn sure you saw and would take off again. If you kept yelling and didn't follow, she'd come back. But this time she'd start chewing them up. You go for your show, and she'd take off.
Just to get ya to stop fighting. There were other things, but that was always the funniest.
The intruder, was a mentally handicapped guy, who used to ride around on his bike asking folks in the neighbourhood for pop bottles, cans, stuff like that. Well, one morning he came to the door and asked my mom for bottles. She said we didn't have any, and this dude flipped out. Screaming that she was lying, and then shoved her to the floor almost sending her down the basement stairs upside down and head first. That's when we decided we'd better get Scout. The guy at the other corner always had these massive Bouviers and Labs, so he gave us Scout for free (he's also my mechanic now...wierd, huh?).
Anyway, at 8 weeks old, and only living with us for one of those.....pop bottle Joe returned, dispite a warning from the Police. He banged on the door, scaring the hell outta my mom; and then what do I hear? This deep, authorative, shouldn't be coming from a puppy "BAROW WO! WO! WO! WO! WO! WO! WO!" (get-the-eff-off-my-property!).
Joe never came back, and never knew he was scared off by an 8 week old. lol Years later, another "intruder" of sorts, was a drunk friend of my dad's who came over unannounced one night while I was alone, sick on the couch. Scout was stuffed under the living room table next to me, when we heard the door open. She growled and I hear "Hello? Hello?!". She starts barking now, that same bark as above, but now coming from a 6 year old dog, that looks roughly like this Google Maps ...That's her cousin, Ben. So, as she's shimmying out from under the table, warning this guy all the while that he is in danger, I hear it again..."hello? hello?" and I'm thinking...get out dummy, get out while you can. Then I heard the storm door close, and "hello" called out again. Now she's free of the table, and on her way....still giving warning to get out. The barking stops, and I hear "AHH! OW!OW!" *riiiiiiiiip!* "OW! PLEASE!!"........and then silence. Well, whoever it is is dead now, I figure. I get to the hall at the front door, to find my dads friend standing up, pinned in the corner. He had one of those real heavy duty, thick flanal jackets. The right arm was ripped from the cuff to just above the elbow, a 3 inch by 2 inch chunck of forearm was missing.....and boy, did he have the fear of God in his eyes.
That's when I realised why Scout wasn't barking, or growling.....or even moving. She had her ENTIRE muzzle, burried in his junk. I mean, her eyeballs were about an inch from his guts. Never taught her that.
So, the sad part of the story. As I said, she suffered a stroke. It was unreal seeing my best friend, my bodyguard, this lumbering beast, unable to even hold herself up to go to the bathroom. The worst part of all, is she was still completly with it. We knew she just couldn't go on like this at 15 years old, and the decision was made to put her down. The night before, I sat and prayed with her. I'm not deeply religious, but she deserved it.
I for one, couldn't be there. I didn't want to see her even brought out of the house. I had to work that morning, and had to have my car at the shop afterwards. I told my mom to be sure it was done before I got home. I gave her a great big hug, said my good-byes, and left for work. After work, I went to the mechanic....which, oddly, was across the street from the vet where she was. It was a GORGIOUS sunny day, when all of a sudden, it clouded right over and POURED. I'm talkin' cats n' dogs, torrential pouring. I looked up at the clock and remember seeing that it was 3:30pm. Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped again. Clouds rolled out and we were back to a beautiful day, better infact. Strange, I thought, and looked up at the clock again. 3:32.
I get home, and my mom was standing in the back hall waiting. I could see she'd been crying, and I welled up a bit. I turned to go in my room, and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw mom had laid Scouts collar on my bed, along with the "death certificate". That's when it all became so real; she was gone. I bawled. Baaaaawled like a baby.
Clutching her collar, I looked at the.......well, let's face it, it's a receipt.
Time of injection: 3:30hrs
Time of death: 3:32hrs
Wierd, right?!?!?!?!
Going to sleep that night though, without having to fight Scout for the covers, much less get on the bed in the first place (lol....that bone head)....it wasn't easy. Her collar has been around the steering column of every car I've ever had since then. Except the Jeep....cause I'm scared someone will steal the collar.
Wow...sorry that was so long! LOL!
Well now you have me crying. I am so sorry about Scout, he sounds like a wonderful dog and friend. Thank you for sharing.
I don't understand why people immediately think that those of us who deeply cherish our dogs are somehow substituting them for people.
A dog is a dog. A dog is not a person. But that doesn't mean you can't love that dog with all your heart.
Animals other than human can reach us at a very deep level. For some, deeper than do people. Animals are used for therapy for that very reason. People, children, who have been mistreated by adults and respond to no human contact will often respond to a small pet. Cats and dogs are used in old folks homes to promote that love and bonding that surpasses what they are given by people. People in prisons become pussycats (pardon) when asked to continually care for an animal.
Life is life. Being is being. It is the depth and quality of love that you feel for another that's really important, not the form that love comes in.
Ideally, each of us is surrounded by loving friends and family who are self actualized and clear and honest and do not have hidden agendas, nor are they manipulative. This is rarely the case.
From whence do we learn unconditional love? If not from our parents, the only way most of us will experience this is from our pets. We learn this from them and hopefully bring that into our human relationships with worthy people.
You know, it's funny.
Of all the things that made me love my dog that just passed, unconditional love wasn't really even part of it.
I mean, I know she loved me. And that is all great.
But it was the connection. The friendship. The camaraderie. The back and forth...you know, like...like she would want something, so she'd come over and look at me. And I'd tease her and pretend not to know she wanted something. Then she'd give me that look, like, "C'mon!" And I would look at her innocently and say, "What? Do you want something?" And she would huff at me, "Huffar." And if I kept playing dumb, she would almost get this "I'm rolling my eyes" expression and huff a little louder with a low growl, and I would grin at her...
Or just, you know, she'd do something and I would just look at her, and she would stop. Cuz she just knew.
They have their own personalities. There is your own conversation. You just get each other.
People treat their dogs like babies. My dog was not my baby. My dog was my best friend. And there every day.
How can that not be a HUGE loss?
OMG, strawberry, I so hear you. I sometimes wish I could live without a pet because I know my heart is going to get ripped to shreds again.
I think that too sometimes. It hurts so much. But they bring such joy, life without any one of them, past or present, is unthinkable.
As for crying. Not only do I cry over my own, I cry over anyone I've heard of who has lost a beloved pet. On a forum, while at the vet, in the pet food aisle of a grocery store...when someone loses a beloved pet, I cry. And yes, the little pets count, too.
A co-worker whon I gather did not hear the news but knew my Schnauzer was ill asked me how she was doing one week after we lost her to the exact day and minute.
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