Saying Good Bye To D'Ogee

I knew the day would come eventually.  I've been dreading it for the last few years of his life.  My little, sweet D'Ogee who gave me a good scare 3 summers ago when I almost lost him, but ended up putting $4500 on a credit card to get him a liver surgery that extended his life a few more years instead.  I don't regret it for a second, and anyone who thought I was crazy for doing it, doesn't understand what it is to love a dog so much that it hurts to consider living without him.

D'Ogee changed my life...truly.  I went from not even wanting to pet or touch a dog to being a passionate and somewhat crazy dog lady who can't live without them.  That silly little furry creature who barked at every noise, irritated my roommates, took a crap on my computer (on purpose), snubbed anyone who wasn't...me, and in his later years of life woke me up 3, 4 or sometimes 5 times in a night to pee, drink water, eat, or just simply bitch and whine about old age.

The day that I had to hold him in my arms for the last time while he took his last few breaths was one of the most painful in my life.  I'll never forget the last night I spent with him, snuggling him next to me, almost anxious for the moment when he could be released from his emaciating body.  He was starving to death, refusing to eat, and not curable.  I wanted him to be free from that life; from his blindness and his aching old bones that were barely strong enough to keep him standing.  It would be good for him to be out of this body, but it would be horribly painful for me.

I thought I had it together that morning when the vet and his wife came to do the deed.  My little boy and I had spent a good amount of time together saying good-bye, and this was for his best, right?  But, when they asked me to sign the papers authorizing euthenasia, the reality slugged me in the gut good and hard, and I burst into sobs and tears.  It was the kind of sadness that literally leaves you feeling like you've been run over by a truck and there is nothing left to do but to succumb to the pain and trauma that are left behind.  It's incredibly humbling to know you are powerless to death's will.  And holding a precious life in your arms while the spirit makes it way out of the confines of the body is a surreal experience.  One minute I'm stroking his soft little head between the ears and feeling the breath on my hand from his wet nose.  The next minute he is limp and lifeless like a rag doll, and I will never, ever hear that raspy piercing bark or that irritable growl when he doesn't get what he wants, or stroke that silky fur, snuggle up to him in bed, or laugh at his odd quirks.

I still have moments when I cry for him.  I'll always miss the little guy, and I'm so grateful for the many gifts he has given me.  Thank you, D'Ogee.  I love you.