Henry turned seven, and the memories of his back injury
were fading, but still in place. We had
installed ramps everywhere we could think of.
We were 80% successful in getting Henry to use the ramps. Unfortunately, 80% was 20% too little.
We saw the jump when it happened. But there was nothing we could do to stop him.
He jumped off the couch, and Henry had trouble using his
hind legs.
We gave him his anti-inflammatory pain medication and put
him in his crate.
The next morning we took Henry to the vet. We explained that Henry went down on his
back. We had followed the procedures we’d
been instructed too, but Henry wasn’t any better.
We had seen this coming on. Henry had been less active, and he looked
like he was in pain. When the big jump
happened, we knew he had done significant damage.
Henry got an injection and we went back home, placing
Henry back in his crate. The next day,
he still wasn’t walking and his hind feet were “knuckling under.”
We went back to the vet’s office.
The vet examined Henry and put him on the floor. Henry made a liar out of us by walking.
Relieved, we took Henry home again, and put him back in
his crate. Maybe he would survive
another back injury, after all!
I carried Henry outside later that day so he could take
care of business. Henry could not
stand. I supported his back end with a
towel and helped him get relief. But I
was worried. He was supposed to be
getting better, not worse.
Henry did not like sleeping thin the kitchen by himself,
so I brought his crate into our bedroom.
He still was not happy with the sleeping arrangements, but at least he
was close to us.
During the night, Henry wet his bed. He no longer had control over his
bladder. He had no feeling. No control of anything that happened below
the waist. Henry tried to lick clean the
mess he made, which really made us sad.
He cleaned up Henry and his bed. Wife and I had a long talk. Our lifestyle and house were not conducive to
a wheelchair dog. Wife’s back problems
prevented her from being able to carrying Henry outside. I had started a new job and was commuting to
my new work, often staying away two to three nights a week. I would be no help. At this point, we could not afford another
back surgery. And Henry seemed to be
more impaired than he had been the first time.
Was it time to ask the vet to put Henry down? We didn’t know. We needed to talk to the vet.
We called the vet and let him know what was happening.
We picked up Henry and a towel and took him back to the
vet’s office. Wife and I held it together
pretty well on the drive over. We did
pretty well in the waiting room.
The vet invited us to the back, and we carried Henry to
one of the examining tables. The vet
took time to explain what he was going to do and what would happen as the
injection took effect. We were asked if
we would like to stay, or if we would rather wait in the waiting area. We chose to stay with Henry.
The vet prepared the syringe and tried to find a vein in
Henry’s front paw. Henry lifted his paw
away. He tried again, and Henry avoided
the needle again.
The vet explained that he would make the injection in
Henry’s rear paw. It would take a little
longer, but Henry would not be aware of the injection, since he had no feeling
in that part of his body.
I held Henry in a hug as the needle went into his hind
paw. Almost immediately I felt Henry
slip away. His warm body just kind of
melted away, and I lay him on the table.
Henry was gone.
And our tears arrived in buckets. Wife and I were both overcome with grief. We couldn’t hold our tears back, or our
sobs.
This was perhaps the hardest thing either of us had ever
had to do. I have no doubt that others
in the waiting room heard us.
The vet verified that Henry was dead. Then he wrapped him in our towel and handed
Henry to me.
Once we got home, I buried Henry under the overhanging
branches of the mulberry tree.
This was his favorite spot during the spring. He would spend hours here eating
mulberries. I felt this was a fitting
spot for Henry’s remains, allowing him to rest forever under the one spot I tried
so hard to deny to him.
Wife and I were devastated. We both continue to feel sad every time we
think about Henry. Because he was a dog
and not a child, we had to make a terrible decision. One based on practicality, not desire. Wife lacked the strength to carry him in and
out of the house. I was away in Victoria several days a week. Our house was built in such a way that Henry
could not have had access to the yard he loved without our help.
Wife and I grieved over Henry’s loss.
When I brought Henry into the backyard to bury him, we let
PD spend some time sniffing the body. I
think he understood that his brother was gone.
I’m not sure that he mourned Henry’s loss. We didn’t notice a difference in his
behavior.
I’m sure PD did notice, however, that he was getting a lot
more attention.
RIP, Henry
2004 - 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment