The end had to come for Lucky tonite. Mid afternoon, I looked out the door to see my dog having a seizure, laying on his side, legs kicking wildly...when I got to him he had a clump of previously pulled weeds clamped in his jaws so tight I couldn't force them open. #2 son & I rushed him to the vet's (fortunately <.5 mi away) where his seizure eventually subsided, but he was left weak & unable to stand or walk on his own. We'll never know what caused it, but the vet suggested that for a dog his age, a brain tumor would be her 1st best guess, & 2nd-3rd guesses wouldn't be any better prognosis. I asked what she would do if it was her dog, & she said she'd take him home & watch him for a couple hours. I did, and while he got some strength back after some chicken & broth, he was terribly unsteady on his feet; when he could keep on his feet, he wandered around everywhere like he had no idea where his was (before, his blindness would make him seem a little out of it, but he clearly had some memory of where things were supposed to be; this was very different). After we got to where we couldn't bear to watch him any more, the heartbreaking decision was made. I took him back to the vet, told her it was time. I stayed in the room with him for the procedure, much as I didn't want to, but I couldn't make him face the end not knowing I was there for him. It's embarrassing to be a big grown man crying for a little dog, but I was with people who understood (& here I am tearing up again), and for the 1st time in a while, I'm not worried about whether he's all right now; I know he's at peace. Tomorrow, as soon as the rain lets up, I will start preparing a place of honor for him in the garden.

1992-2009

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