September 6, 2007
Goodbye Old Friend
It’s kind of a difficult day for me. What keeps nagging at my mind is something my sister told me last night.
“Mom and Dad are putting Shadow down tomorrow at 11 a.m.” she said. I could feel a wave of sadness wash over me.
Shadow is (was?) our family dog. A mix of Rat Terrier and Pomeranian, Shadow looked more like a terrier with his beady eyes and his white, brown and tan coat. We were visiting my grandma, Alice, on her farm in the spring of 1991. Grandma Alice’s brother and his wife had given the puppy to her to keep her company. When we saw the adorable pup, my brother, sister and I fell in love with him instantly.
“Please, Mom! Can we take him home? Can we have the puppy?” we asked. My mother had just had a baby, our brother Frankie, and she didn’t think a puppy was a good idea. I remember crying to Grandma about it.
“Gramma, can we take the puppy home? We’ll be good and we’ll take care of it. I promise. Will you tell Mom I promise?” I asked.
Either I was a very persuasive 12-year-old, or Grandma was a sucker, because that little puppy came home with us. My mother didn’t even tell my father until we got home because she knew he would have said no had she asked him over the telephone.
The puppy became a member of our family instantly. We loved to play with him and he liked to run and jump and tug on our shoelaces when we walked. He followed us everywhere and that’s when we decided to call him Shadow. To be truthful, I chose the dog’s name. My sister wanted to call him Huggy Bear and my brother liked the name Viet Cong Dog or something along those lines.
Like any new toy, the novelty of our pet wore off as he grew from a puppy into a dog. We still loved our Shadow, but we slacked on our chores of feeding him and walking him. Shadow became Mom’s dog and she loved her faithful friend. As her children grew up and began to move out of the house, my mom loved Shadow as her companion.
In recent years, Shadow suffered blindness, he’s practically deaf, he has issues holding his bladder and bowel movements and he has a lot of difficulty walking, running and jumping due to his weight and his aging body. A few months ago he started getting some open sores on his fur and my father thought perhaps it was doggie cancer.
Dad always mentioned that perhaps it was time to end Shadow’s suffering, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. She said she couldn’t bear to end his life.
“He’s not whimpering. He doesn’t seem like he’s in pain!” she yelled. “Would you put ME down if I were old and sick?”
“Monica, he’s not a human. He’s a dog, and I hate to see him suffer.” Dad replied.
The discussion often bordered an argument and my dad hadn’t mentioned it again. According to my sister, my mom isn’t speaking to my father and she is very mad that Shadow is going to be put to sleep. I don’t blame her.
I know that Shadow is almost 17 years old. I know he’s lived a long happy life. It pains me to see him struggle to walk and to see his once beautiful coat of fur full of sores. I feel sad that he can’t see and he can’t hear. I also feel terrible for my mother who still loves her pal. She still pet him and cared for him even in his old age.
But when I think about my Murphy getting older, I can’t fathom the idea of putting him to sleep, and I know exactly how my mother feels.
The tears are welling up in my eyes as I write this. In 45 minutes our little Shadow, our good old friend, will enter Dog Heaven. Dad hasn’t said if he’ll bury Shadow under a tree in the yard, but I hope he does. It’s too painful to imagine him anywhere else.
We still love you, Shadow. Rest peacefully, my little canine friend. I think I’m going to miss you more than I ever imagined.
Posted by Dana @ 10:26 am • Bedlam, Childhood Memories
RSS feed for comments on this post.
TrackBack URI
September 6th, 2007 at 11:56 am, Dawn Says:
There is no Hallmark card for this particular pain. Which is what I’ve thought the 2 times we’ve had pets die.
When we had a cat who was sick with liver cancer, the doctor so! gently! said, you can take her home with you, or you can help make her an angel today.
…. I can’t see to type anymore. Too many tears.
I’m sorry.
September 6th, 2007 at 12:11 pm, Dana Says:
Oh, Dawn! I’m so sorry to hear about your cat. It’s always devastating because the pets really do become family members!
September 6th, 2007 at 3:34 pm, Cheryl Says:
Hugs.
September 6th, 2007 at 4:44 pm, dana Says:
Cheryl, thank you!
September 6th, 2007 at 9:10 pm, mom2amara Says:
There’s nothing I can say at such a difficult time. Our pets become such an integral part of our families, our lives, that at times like this, the loss is devastating.
It’s been 164 days since we lost our beloved Lucida. She was neither sick nor old. As Dad2Amara said, it was simply time for God to pick her up.
So know that many people are thinking of you and your family. And that Shadow is up in doggie heaven, chasing a ball with our Lucida.
September 6th, 2007 at 10:03 pm, Dana Says:
M2A - Thanks for saying such kind words. I called my mom tonight and she was just sobbing. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just cried with her.
September 7th, 2007 at 9:08 am, Douglas V. Gibbs Says:
It is amazing how much love we put into animals, but the joy they give us makes it all worth it. I remember when Brandy, our Lab, had mass-cell tumors all over his body, and we had to put him down. Our son was attached to him, spent every waking moment with this dog. I told my son he needn’t be present when it happened. He demanded he be there with Brandy to the end. In the room were two people to apply the shots of death, myself, and my son who must’ve been 8 years old at the time. After the shots were administered, before he died, the last thing Brandy did was look my son straight in the eyes, and they held that eye-lock until it was over. My son was crying, holding his friend. The eyes of us three adults were none the dryer. Thank you for the article, it inspired memories of my canine loved ones for me, as well. Shadow, of course, will live on. . . in your memories.
September 7th, 2007 at 9:48 am, Dana Says:
It really is difficult to let go of a beloved pet. They’re like family. It’s so hard. But it’s harder to watch them suffer.
September 7th, 2007 at 1:56 pm, Liz Says:
I’m sorry, Dana - the worst part of being a pet owner, I say - I’m glad that Shadow was such a good friend!
September 8th, 2007 at 6:01 pm, Dana Says:
Thanks Liz@ It’s so difficult. My mother is just devastated.
September 10th, 2007 at 8:03 am, Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah Says:
I’m really sorry, Dana.
September 10th, 2007 at 5:24 pm, Shannon Says:
I’m sorry Dana.
You’ve written a beautiful tribute to Shadow here.
September 10th, 2007 at 8:23 pm, Her Bad Mother Says:
Oh, lady, I’m so, so sorry.
Such a beautiful tribute.
September 10th, 2007 at 8:35 pm, Dana Says:
Sarah, Shannon, Catherine — thank you. I still re-read my words and start to cry. It sounds ridiculous and I sometimes feel ridiculous crying over a dog. It’s unbelievable that we can become so attached. But I’m glad that we had him as long as we did.
I worry more about my mother. I talk to her every day since last week and she still can’t get over it. How do I ease her pain?