I wrote the following after the passing of our older dog, Zola.
BT is my husband, Alex is our other older dog who passed away in June of 2001.
Saturday, January 6, 2001, we took our beloved Zola in for euthanasia. Making the decision to euthanize Zola was probably the most difficult decision I have ever made. I guess in a way I had kind of known the possibility of having to put Zola down was coming. Her physical health was not great, though not way bad, I guess, for an 11 year old dog of her breed. Her mental health toward the end was the scariest part. Her temperament...
Well, she never would have won "miss congeniality", even in her good days. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t delightful and fun or that she didn’t have a great personality (she was, and she did!)... she just was who she was and her main priority was not necessarily making other creatures happy, if that makes any sense.
She had been getting more and more crabby -- she very seldom seemed happy, and she had gotten really bad (really bad!) about snapping at us. She was spending most of her time laying down; she just didn’t have much energy at all. She had gotten to where she would fairly consistently growl if we walked near where she was laying down, and sometimes snap at us. It had gotten to the point that she sometimes snapped when we tried to pet her, and sometimes even when we were bringing out her food bowl to feed her dinner; we just never knew... In the past I had had dominance aggression problems with her at times, but this was very different. BT says he thinks her mind was pretty much going... I guess that might be right; I guess dogs can get Alzheimer’s, too.
I guess I finally came to the conclusion that it really was time when she tried to bite me as I was reaching to pet her the Friday before New Year’s. She missed my wrist, hitting instead the sleeve of my sweater, but if her aim had been better it would have been a bad bite. There was no dominance aggression explanation for that one -- no explanation that makes sense at all, really... BT said it seemed like things were popping off in her mind without even her having control of them. Her days of enjoying life were pretty much over, and it was getting to the point that it was often dangerous to be around her, and we certainly didn’t want someone to get hurt.
It still was very, very hard... making the call for the appointment was extremely difficult -- it made it real. It was tough to keep from crying that day at work, and on my drive home I just broke down.
The last gift I felt I could give to her was to make her last day as comfortable and happy as possible. Once I got home that Friday I cried a while more, then spent time with Zola. I gave her some beer (as had been advised, we had not been giving her many treats for a while -- with her hypothyroidism, it was tough to bring her weight back down if she gained) which she really enjoyed -- she hadn't had that in a while (and she just loved beer!). We got pizza for dinner, and gave her some, too. She was in brighter spirits than I'd seen her in a while... I was trying to play with her a bit and talk with her, and a few times she came up to give me a kiss -- I have to admit it made me a bit nervous, but she was a really good girl, no snapping or growling at all.
Saturday morning I got up and got my ’72 Mustang out (usually when we took Zola someplace in a vehicle we’d take our truck, but she couldn't get into the truck by herself anymore, and I wanted to take her in something she could get into by herself; I don't think she ever really liked being lifted in...) and she and I went to Joe Wheeler State Park and walked the trails by the lake. We were really lucky -- no one else was there, so I let her off leash for most of it.
Gosh, she had more energy that morning than I'd seen in soooo long -- she was smiling, her tail was more up than it had been in a long time. It was pretty warm and sunny. It was nice, and she was happy. Then we headed back towards home, and I took her through McDonanld's drive-thru to get water, a cheeseburger and fries for her. I had been apprehensive as to whether she'd be "snappy" around the food, but she was just like the old Zola that I used to take to McD's -- she was patient while I unwrapped the food, and waited while I got bites ready for her. She _loved_ it.
Then we went to pick up BT and head to our Veterinarian's office. BT had the very good idea of calling first to make sure appointments were on schedule (we didn't want to make Zo wait in the waiting room for this appointment). Things were a bit backed up there, so we decided to wait a bit.
Since we had a bit more time, we took Zola back out to the little park near the Elk River Bridge and walked around with her a bit more. She was smelling everything, and seemed very happy. She had a good day. Her temperament was good, and she had a good time. I'm really glad (although late that Saturday and Sunday, the fact she’d had such a good day made me feel really guilty, for a while...).
Then we headed to our Veterinarian's office. They let us right back in and were so kind and sensitive. They gave us such warm support -- I can't adequately express in words how much their support meant to us.
Afterwards, we took Zola's body home, and dug her grave in a place where there's a good view of the river, under a dogwood tree and a big oak. We carried her out to the grave and put her in. Then I put in some pretty rocks from our walk by the lake, one of her old favorite squeaky chew-man toys, a copy of "rainbow bridge" with a note to her on it, and covered her with a big t-shirt I sleep in. Then BT had me put a few shovels of dirt on her and then he finished burying...
We brought Alex over and tried to explain to him what had happened. And then we just sat there awhile.
BT made me feel better when I was weirding out later that weekend about my decision to euthanize Zola by reminding me of all that had been happening recently that made this the right course to take. He said he thought her mind was really starting to go. I guess so; I'm glad her last hours were good ones. That's how I'd want to go...
I got to share some really wonderful times with Zola. She was the light of my life in many ways. When she was younger, she really seemed to have a sense of humor. She was so much fun to play with, and just to watch. She taught me to be more assertive (I had to be or she would take the opportunity to take over! -- I still have a ways to go on that front, but she helped). She was there through some of the toughest times in my life, and she was so sweet and supportive at those times. She'd come up and sit with me and kiss me -- she just seemed to know... After I had back surgery and couldn't reach down to pick up her toys for a time, she seemed to know that, too -- she'd drop them on the sofa, or bring them to my hand so I could reach them to throw for her. She was an especially intelligent and sensitive dog.
Watching her take the running leaps off the dock into the river like she used to was pure joy. She loved water as much as I do -- she loved to swim. She would kind of supercharge when the weather turned colder, and if it snowed, she was in heaven -- she just loved it!!! She was such a ham -- she loved being the center of attention, and would become frustrated if she wasn’t the center of attention, and would let us know -- Wooooo-woooo-wooooo-woo!. The few times I was at home on the Mondays that Brown’s Ferry Nuclear Plant tests its sirens I got the special treat of hearing her howl so beautifully. Sometimes we’d howl at home trying to get her to join in, and she would, but we were never as good as the siren! She would howl much longer and prettier for it.
I was so lucky to get to spend eleven years with Zola.
I loved that girl (still do!) -- she was my baby. I don't think I'll ever have a dog again as smart as she was. That might be good -- she was probably too smart for me. I feel she is in a better place right now, with no pain, no frustrations, and much joy and happiness. I know I’ll see her again someday, and very much look forward to that.