I woke up this morning and looked at the time. 8:41. Time to get started on what was sure to be a difficult day.
Music Man and Miss Goofy were already up and on the back porch with our dog, Courage. I dressed quickly and began getting ready to leave the house.
Miss Goofy came in and told me the time frame for leaving the house. I nodded and kept working. Music Man had breakfast and so did Miss Goofy. I ate just before walking out the door. Music Man walked Courage and Miss Goofy got in the back of our SUV. I pulled the truck forward so Courage didn't have as far to walk. Music Man brought him to the back of the vehicle and lifted him into the back. I was proud of Courage for not completely freaking out and panicking.
The drive to the vet took much less time than we had anticipated. We were a half hour early.
I waited in the truck while Music Man and Miss Goofy went inside to discuss what was going to happen and how best to get Courage into an exam room.
Courage panted a lot. He was a little cold and a lot scared. I told him stories about the Elysian Fields. Yes, I know they were reserved for humans related to gods and other heroes. I also know it was expanded to include humans chosen by gods. I'd like to think dogs would have loved romping and playing in some place like that. I know Courage would have loved to run and jump and chase rabbits there.
Music Man and Miss Goofy came out to the truck and we got Courage out and standing so he could go pee. We even got him into the exam room with little difficulty.
The vet, an incredibly sweet lady, with such a good way with animals and a tender heart, and her equally helpful vet tech, came into the exam room. We discussed costs and what was going to happen. After a few minutes another tech came inside, she had the syringe for the sedation.
The vet warned us, it was the part that would hurt. Courage didn't cry or struggle, he did look a bit annoyed though. The tech and vet left the room while they waited for it to take effect. We hugged Courage and told him we loved him. We told him we didn't want him to hurt anymore.
The vet and tech returned and carefully scooted him around. The vet shaved part of his paw and they began the final injection. Music Man and Miss Goofy pet him and loved on him while I could only stand and watch as the fluid left the syringe and flowed into our beloved dog.
He had been such a joy to have.
He stopped breathing before the injection was finished. The vet waited a couple of minutes after she finished the injection and then listened for a heartbeat. When she was satisfied there was none, she handed the stethoscope to her tech who listened and after a minute she was also satisfied.
The vet was even choked up as she injected Courage. Finally, the two women stood and told us we could stay as long as we wanted. We all hugged him again, knowing he wasn't hurting anymore and we were only hugging an empty vessel. We told him we loved him, we thanked him for being our dog and we quietly gathered our things to leave.
Miss Goofy let them know we were finished with our good-byes and we made our way to the SUV. It felt weird to drive away and leave him. I know he is much better off now. I know keeping him alive would have been torturous to him. It still hurts us though.
He was six weeks old when we got him. A big furry, fuzzy, rompy, barking puppy who we could tell was going to be enormous. He was such a sweet dog though. And without more than a stump for a tail. He was the first dog I'd ever had. And I had always been afraid of big dogs. All signs pointed to him being huge.
The first couple of weeks it was just he and I during the day, while Music Man worked and Miss Goofy was in first grade. I'd sit on one end of the couch and he'd jump up on the other end and bark at me. I had no idea what he wanted, I just knew those first weeks it scared the crap out of me when he did that. Not just the noise of his bark in my quiet house but I didn't know what he wanted. Part of me feared he might try to bite me.
I'd get up and take him outside. He'd go running to play and I'd go back inside. He'd be back at the door within a minute, barking to come back inside with me.
Eventually we figured out how to play together. And I even looked forward to my time alone with him. He was a great listener. He'd just nap on my foot while I chattered away about whatever was bothering me.
He'd jump on the bed at bedtime and take over Music Man's side, snuggling into me when he did. Until Music Man finally could convince him to get down.
A year ago we took him to the vet, he had blood in his urine. She was so kind and caring, we knew when the time came and it was necessary to have him put down, she was the one we wanted to do it. She was the reason we had another year with him. She prepared us for the day we'd have to come back and we wouldn't bring him home. She knew it was coming but also that we weren't ready. Like I said, she gave us another year with him.
The last six months, he's been in a lot of pain. He stopped playing and mostly barked. He'd started showing signs of dementia, where he'd lose us and get scared. He wouldn't eat much. He lost a lot of weight, probably forty-five pounds. He'd been about 120. He had trouble sleeping. He didn't even want comfort anymore.
It was time.
RIP Courage. We love you. Thank you for being our dog.
