Another Dog is Gone

I've been debating for a couple of weeks about what to do with the old blind poodle that I inherited from my mom when she died three years ago. The dog's cataracts were severe, her dementia had progressed pretty quickly over the last few months, and she was basically no longer house broken. And she smelled bad no matter how many baths I gave her.

Despite that, she could hear -- she just chose to ignore everyone. And she was pretty mobile. She would walk around in a little circle in the middle of the backyard for as long as I would let her. (Though it was sad because she was confused, it looked pretty funny. I felt guilty for laughing and I never left her out there for more than a few minutes.)

So this past weekend we had a couple of people over. My sister walked into the kitchen, took one look at the dog sleeping in her crate and said, "Oh! It is time!" A friend who recently had to have her own beloved pup put down agreed. I didn't even have to ask. Whew!

I made an appointment at the vet for 5 this evening. It didn't need to be today, but once I made the decision I just wanted to get it over with before I chickened out.

By the time I got her to the vet, the bath I had given her this morning had worn off, and she was smelly again. She looked horrible -- she looked scraggily and uncared for. I felt terrible!

Of course, the "mean" vet who has yelled at me (undeservedly) in the past had to be the doctor who walked in the room. When I said we just needed for her to be put down, he immediately agreed with our decision. He said it would be fast and it was. In a few seconds, it was over.

Here is why this feels weird. Though we had her for three years, this dog didn't really bond with anyone. She loved my mom so much, and my mom spoiled her so bad, she had a hard time adjusting to being treated like a dog. At our house she was not held constantly and she had to eat -- dog food. She slept in the kitchen in her own bed, like the other dogs. Because of this lack of bonding, I never felt that she was our dog -- she was my mom's dog. That gave taking care of the little animal a different feel. Though we all cared for her and wanted the best for her, we didn't have the love for her we have for our own dogs -- it was more of an obligation. And making a life or death decision for an animal who you feel is not yours is in some ways much harder. Was I making the decision for the right reasons? Was it best for her? And in an odd way, I was losing that last final connection with my mom.

Luckily I was offered some unbiased opinions that helped me make the right decision. I'm confident the guilt will pass.

Side note: When my mom rescued this dog from a puppy mill -- the little dog had been forced to have way too many litters of puppies -- mom asked if we wanted her. I said no. She tried and tried to push the little poodle on me and I said no. I told her, I don't want a dog that takes that much grooming and extra care. I prefer dogs that don't need haircuts.

So years later, after the dog got old, I still ended up with her.

Another side note: Sometimes I get really ticked off when I ask a direct question and someone (who shall remain nameless) refuses to give me an answer. A couple of weeks ago I asked directly if it was time, and he said it was up to me. Of course I read that to mean it must not be time or else he would have said so. No, he just wanted it to be my decision. Well, I obviously needed help or I wouldn't have asked! (Some men are so aggravating.)