This past Monday, April 19, we had Dexter put to sleep. He was almost 13 years old and we got him when he was 11 weeks old, a tiny bouncy puppy with ears that he tripped over for months. He was ever cheerful, a part of the family, loved the children and let them pull on his tail and ears and pull up on his back with no grumbles, and a very dear friend. He was scared of cats, thunderstorms, hot air balloons, baths, and getting his toenails trimmed. He knew lots of human words, but his favorites were "donut" and "grandma." In his old age, he grudgingly put up with the little puppy named Ladybug but finally deigned to cuddle with her on his bed and nuzzle her periodically.
Last winter he developed a tumor back by his left anal gland that, in spite of antibiotics and steroids, continued to grow and harden. The alternative was surgery but, assuming he would have survived the surgery, he would have most certainly been incontinent. Last weekend he stopped eating and, for the first time in 12 years, refused a plain cake donut. On Monday morning we took him to our vet, who has certainly earned the title given to the vet in "101 Dalmations": Splendid Vet, and he gently helped us through the euthanasia process. He grieved with us for, though he shuddered when we brought Dexter in for a nail trim, he fell under the spell of that merry personality and looked forward to seeing him. He gave Dexter a shot of sleeping medicine, and I held that beloved soft head in my hands until he fell asleep. Then the doctor gave him the euthanasia medicine, and it was over.
We've been preparing Jennie & Jackson for this since the winter, so, unlike with Grandpa, they had a chance to say a proper goodbye. On Sunday they could see that he was in pain and not eating and realized it was time for him to go. We got a steppingstone kit from Michael's and did an imprint of his pawprint (much against his wishes -- that earned us a grumble), and the children decorated with bits of decorative glass and we inscribed it with his name and dates of birth and death. Monday morning they said their tearful goodbyes and went off to school (I wrote notes to their teachers that they would need lots of hugs that day).
Ladybug is much subdued (for her), but is doing fine. The rest of us are still grieving but realize this was the right thing to do, and the right time.
He will be missed and forever loved.
Nina