Posted on 09/01/2006 8:19:52 PM PDT by Blood of Tyrants
As I write this, my smart, loving, and protective dog, Ginger, who was born on this property is lying downstairs in the kitchen dying on a blanket.
She has had lymphoma cancer for about three months and the anti-cancer drugs have stopped being effective. The tumors increased in size rapidly and she has quickly gone downhill. This morning she barely had the strength to get up off the floor and go outside to relieve herself. This evening she doesn't even have the strength to go outside and can't even control her bladder anymore. The end is only hours away. Perhaps a day, maybe two, but soon.
She is smart, funny at times, and has adopted the family next door. Sometmes she would go to the neighbor's back door and bark until someone came out and gave her a piece of bologna. She had them trained well and they loved her almost as much as we do.
Tonight, while I was alone with her, I said my goodbyes. I told her she was a good puppy (even though she is 13 years old) and that it would be over soon. I told her that it was alright to go if it got painful or just too hard. I don't know if there are heaven in dogs, but if there are, Ginger will be there soon, riding in pickup trucks with her head out the window, barking at the cows as they pass. He dish will be full of steak and there will be lots of rabbits to chase and plenty of smelly things to roll in. I'll bury her underneath the trees out back and cover her grave with a large stone to keep the critter from digging her up.
Ginger has become so much more than a pet and I will miss her.
Goodbye, good and faithful friend. You will be missed.
My heart goes out to you; these beloved pets are parts of our families. The pain you feel is every bit as acute as if this were your child. I wish I could do something; other than tell you that I share your pain, and I never had the pleasure of meeting your friend.
I live in dread of the day my companion's time will come due. Out-living your loved ones is a sad thing.
Spend what time you can while she's still here. She knows you love her, all you can do is comfort her while you may. God bless you, for if more people had a heart like yours; life on this lonely planet would be a lot happier, friendlier and easier than it currently is.
My heart breaks just reading your post. I'm sitting here with all 3 of my buddies within 4 or 5 feet of me. It just kills me to imagine losing one of them.
I pray God's comfort for you.
So sorry about your fur-baby. We'll say a prayer for your beloved pet and your family to deal with the coming loss.
There’s just something special and unique about a loyal, affectionate dog. They ask for so little, and in return they give all that they have.
We lost our dog of eighteen years almost exactly a year ago (Labor Day 2005), and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of her.
Despite the fact that losing her was not unlike losing a child, we adopted another dog from a rescue society three days later. Not to replace her – no other dog ever could do that -- but for the same reason we had adopted her eighteen years earlier: to open our home to a dog that otherwise might not have one.
I hope you’ll consider doing the same once Ginger has gone. Yours is obviously a home that would warmly welcome a dog in need of loving human companionship.
May the time that Ginger has left not be too painful for her. She knows that you love her, and just being with her and softly telling her so, even when she does not appear to know that you are there, will provide the comfort that will allow her to ‘let go’ in peace. Your voice and your touch are all that she needs, now that the world’s remedies have failed her.
God bless and strengthen you and your family, and may He relieve Ginger’s suffering soon.
The one best place to bury a dog is in the heart of his master.
Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for although I should lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.
When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements.
And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though, had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in the land.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food so that I may stay well to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.
And, beloved master, should the Great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather, hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest ... and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I draw, my fate was ever safest in your hands.
… Beth Harris
God bless you and Ginger, neighbor. All I can tell you is, if there are no dogs in Heaven, I'm not setting foot inside.
Ginger knows you love her. She will be waiting at the door for you someday. Just think how good and jumpy she will feel to be released from this suffering Earthly body.
Such a sad, sad thing to see a pet slowly dying. Prayers and blessings...
Very sad.
Very sad. The good news is there are animals in heaven! Thanks for sharing Ginger with us.
Ginger's suffering became too much for me to bear so I took her to the vet for the final time. She was so weak she could barely stand and would urinate on herself while lying on a pee pad. The end was quick, one shot put her to sleep withing 20 seconds. The second shot stopped her heart in about 5 seconds. I held her and reassured her that I loved her and it was okay to go.
I took her home and buried her underneath the same tree she was born under nearly 13 years ago this month.
Sorry to hear about your dog Ginger. Losing a pet is tough - hang in there Blood.
Sorry to hear that. These critters make it mighty easy to love them.
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year- old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family there were no miracles left for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for the four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion.
We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The four-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."
Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply, Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.
God bless you, neighbor. I know it's an awful, awful thing, but you gave your friend mercy. You did the right thing for your pal.
It's hard, my heart goes out to you.
t.
Mate,
I had to put Big Tess down, three years ago. Osteosarcoma: very aggressive form of bone cancer, took less than a week to become fatal, she died visibly by the minute until I could take no more. A trip to the vet and a needle while I held her close: she knew and she thanked me with a lick on my tear-stained face as she died. Then she was gone: my beautiful German Shepherd -- gone.
I feel for you right now. I mourn your loss.
God give you strength
From DownUnder
*DieHard*
For all dog lovers, I am sorry for their loss. I had to give the mutt two baths this weekend because his hair is so long, he's getting up there at 14 and isn't as active as he was so his hair gets a bit matted. Half border collie, half lab.
Thats the thing about hounds. They love you even if they know they'll never see ya naked.
I remember the Twilight Zone where the guy refused to go to the place dogs weren't allowed
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