We put Boo to sleep last Wednesday. Over the last few years, he had developed some sort of spinal cord issue which was causing him to lose control of his back legs. Initially, it made him walk slowly and lose control of his back legs. But in the past few months, he’d begun falling regularly and was getting sores on his stomach and back legs from the falls and being in one position so long. He had a hard time maneuvering around the house, and there was no hope of a cure.
It was still a hard decision for us to make and even harder to carry out. We brought Boo into the vet on one of his favorite beds covered in blankets, and we were able to feed him turkey dogs as the initial sedative kicked in. As he grew more and more tired, he laid down in his bed and made his happy grunting noise. He seemed content and at peace, which isn’t how he usually is at the vet. After about 15 minutes, the vet came back and gave him a sedative to stop his heart. We stayed with him for a while after.
My hardest moment was leaving him behind. I couldn’t bring myself to move him from his bed and blanket. As we walked out, I asked the assistant at the front desk if we could pick them up later, but she immediately went to go get them for us. I wanted to stop her and tell her that he needed them. He might get cold. It was just so hard to imagine him laying on the cold floor or the metal exam table without something soft and familiar around him. I tear up even as I think about it now.
Boo was always so full of life. Ready to go anywhere. Ready for an adventure. Wanting to be with us. He was with me through so much that it’s hard to believe he isn’t here anymore. I got him when I was only 18. He traveled with me to Washington as I finished college and got my first full time job. Then he went with us across the country to Boston where I went to grad school. He saw both oceans and flew on a plane.
As far as dogs go, I like to think that he had it pretty good. Still it almost feels selfish that I’m not cleaning up after him anymore. Or helping him onto the sofa. I had to hide his food dish in the far back of the cabinet because I can’t help but automatically go to feed him first. I’ve been doing it for so long.
I come home to five dogs. Five really great dogs. But Boo will always be my first. My companion through some pretty volatile years. And it’s going to be a while before I can think of him without shedding a tear and wishing that he was still romping around like he used to.
i had to stop looking at the pictures because i couldn’t stop crying! maybe if i never go over to your house again, i can still pretend he’s romping around.
It’s been years since I’ve seen him, but I cried reading your post. Boo was such a great dog.
Omg Jen, thanks for making me cry while I was at work reading this!!!!
Boo was (is) such a beautiful wonderful creature. The first time I saw this stocky brown gargoyle pig with a huge head he smiled at me. I was instantly smitten. He was a constant during a period in my life that seemed to change locations and jobs every year. He put up with 7 house moves and 2 car trips across the country. He loved adventure and I think going new places and meeting new people for him were worth the times he got carsick.
He was so full of life for so long it has been hard to see him as the shell of the dog he used to be not that long ago. The last year he lost coordination in his back legs and with that the abilities that brought him joy in life like running and hiking or lounging around the backyard on a sunny day. Simply getting up was no longer a guarantee for him and I would have given anything to allow him more time doing the things he loved.
It feels as though his spirit is always with me but I miss seeing him and holding him. He will always be my first and I am sad that we will never sleep next to each other again he inside arm and chest. We have 5 more wonderful dogs at home now but it does not lessen the sting of realization at seeing Boo’s bed stacked in the corner or the empty spot on the bedroom floor where it used to lay.
I hope he knew how much I loved him and that the decision to euthanize him was a difficult one that we grappled with long before we were really faced with doing anything about it. We promised him that he would never suffer unnecessarily.
In my selfishness I wonder what another day, week, or month with him would have cost us. Cleaning up after him and carrying him around the house seem like such a small price to pay to spend time with one that I loved for so long. Then I remember how peaceful his last vet visit was and know we did the right thing.