My dog died yesterday. Spencer was a 16 year old Lhasa apso/bichon frise mix who spent his first 15 years of his life with an elderly couple. The man who I got him from was becoming more and more debilitated and unable to even take care of himself much less a special needs dog, so he had contemplated euthanizing him. His vet intervened and got in touch with PASS, a program at Austin Pets Alive! that attempts to place pets into new homes without having to go through the shelter first. My friend tagged me in the post, and I immediately loved him. I arranged to meet him and brought him home that afternoon.

At first, I was extremely overwhelmed. I knew that he was quite blind and had keratoconjunctivitis sicca which is basically severe dry eye that results in yellow opaque goop covering his eyeballs unless I use Optimmune eyedrops everyday on him. I knew he was having incontinence problems, most likely due to the lack of his owner being able to keep up with his eyedrops everyday and therefore not being able to see. I did NOT know that he had severe, untreated arthritis, dementia, and was also baseline mostly deaf and mostly blind. I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew. I didn't realize that it was dementia at the time, but he had severe anxiety at first and would not settle down, walked EXTREMELY slowly, paced constantly, and just generally looked really upset. I panicked and thought about trying to see if anyone else had showed interest in taking him in, but I felt really guilty and kept on trying to help him. I stuck with the eyedrops, and his eye goop finally cleared up. I got him on some CBD oil, tramadol, and cosequin for his arthritis, and he eventually adjusted to life with Bruno and me. He definitely had problems, but I dealt with it and tried to remind myself that it was not his fault.

Time went by, and he waxed and waned. He mostly did okay and sometimes even jogged a little bit. He seemed to find comfort being near me even though he couldn't really show any affection. His arthritis meant that he could not jump on the couch to lounge with me, so he stayed on the floor, but always laid on one of my feet or had to touch me in some way while he laid there. He really was a very sweet, gentle boy.

A few weeks ago, he began peeing and pooping in the house again. It would happen within an hour of having just gone outside, too. This was very unlike him, and I started to get a little worried. Incontinence, however inconvenient and unpleasant, was not the worst thing in the world, though, and I kept on keeping on. I tried to remember to put a diaper on him and bring him out as often as I could.

A little less than two weeks ago, he suddenly stopped using his back legs. He looked like a little mermaid with his hind legs dragging behind him side-saddle. He looked very pathetic and would get caught on things (like the entrance to his kennel) and absolutely freak out with his dementia panic. Bathing him was always a little panic-inducing for him, but it suddenly got MUCH worse. He would pee, then drag his butt through it and smear it all over the floor. He would go outside and squat to pee and poop, but his hind legs couldn't hold that squat position, so he would fall over. He would no longer let me groom him. The last few days he even stopped taking his medicine in a block of cheese. I had to wrap them in a piece of meat for him to take them. It all just got to the point that I could no longer help him anymore and his quality of life was suffering.

The vet said his right hip was almost completely frozen and that he was definitely hurting. She said the scooting wasn't from an injury to the leg or hip, and that it was likely just because he was hurting too much and didn't want to use his legs. I think he was actually in a lot of pain, but because his dementia was so severe, he could not exhibit the usual signs of pain. His was not the kind where they stop eating and walking; it was the kind where he would NEVER stop eating and walking. I mean, his legs weren't even working anymore and he KEPT ON wandering around. He couldn't stop. It was really sad to watch, really. I brought him to my parents' house in Houston for Thanksgiving. Both of my parents said that they could see he was MUCH worse than he was before and that they could see he was suffering, too.

I brought him back home on Sunday night. We settled in and I slept on the couch to be near him (as I have been doing for the last week or two). He slept in until about 9am. We went outside, and the weather was absolutely glorious. It was chilly, but not frigid, clear and sunny. Not humid at all. Just glorious. I could not have asked for a more perfect day for him to leave this world. I spent the morning just hanging out with him, randomly picking him up and loving on him, letting him nap, and taking lots of photos of him. I went out and bought him a double cheeseburger from P. Terry's, and we sat on my patio while he gorged himself. We took a couple more short walks just enjoying the day and each other's company. I just sat with him in the living room with him right next to me for some time. I told him that I hoped he was happy living with me, that his original owners loved him, that he would see his original owner soon, and that I loved him and hoped he thought I was making the right decision. My sister showed up about 10-15 minutes before the vet, and we both just took turns giving him scratches and hugs. She took a few more pictures of us together.

The vet showed up and after getting paperwork and payment out of the way, she explained what would happen, asked if we had any questions, and then began shortly after. She gave him a shot of a sedative and pain medication, which he yelped at. Poor buddy. He wandered around for a bit, then settled in front of me on the ground (nevermind there's FOUR beds for him to lay on...). He was still awake for a few minutes, so I gave him some bacon to munch on. He ate it happily, then got real drowsy and laid down his head. I thought he was almost out, but there was a tiny crumb of bacon in front of his nose, and he reached his head forward and licked it into his mouth right before zonking out. Brenda and I both laughed because this was so like him. Even on his literal death bed, he is still a hungry hungry hippo. I knew that nothing short of death could ever make him stop eating. He fell asleep (probably with the bacon still in his mouth), and the vet placed him a little butterfly IV, then gave him the medication to euthanize him. It was hard to tell exactly when he stopped breathing. I was stroking his fur, and it was so fluffy and would fluff back up and make it look like he was breathing... but I knew he wasn't. I gave him kisses on his head and told him I loved him. The vet left shortly after that, and the guy from the crematorium came in to pick up the body. He brought in a wicker basket to put him in. I picked up his limp body and placed him in the basket, and gave him another kiss. The guy tucked him in with a blanket, and then took him away.

I called my mom, and she answered the phone already ugly crying and told me that she "shuh bu duh" letting him go... which basically means she didn't want to let him go. I told her he already passed and that they already took his body away, and she was really upset. She said she thought it was at 4pm. I told her no, he was already gone. I swear, I have heard my mom cry about stuff, but I have only ever heard her cry like that when she was at her mom's grave visiting a few years ago. It was both really sweet and absolutely hilarious. Brenda and I were cry laughing and had to call our other sister immediately to laugh with her about it, too.

It really was a perfect day. I could not have asked for a better ending for him. I hope he had a good life and was happy with Bruno and me.

I let Bruno out to see the body, and he didn't seem like he got it at first, but as the day went on, I could tell he knew. He was very somber and quiet the rest of the day. I brought him to my sister's place to let him and Scout, her dog, run around at the dog park. It was a really nice evening. We both ate the home-cooked Chinese food my mom sent me home with and watched some TV. This morning, Bruno did not want to wake up. I got up, got ready for work, changed, did my makeup, made my breakfast, and sat down to eat it... and he still had not stirred. He usually comes over to see if I will share some of my food with him, but this time... nothing. Even when I put the leash on him, he still took forever to get up. Poor little dude. I wish he could understand what was happening.

I am glad I got the time with Spencer that I did. I am thankful that I got to let him go before he completely deteriorated and only knew suffering. We are able to treat our animals so much better than we treat other humans. I will always have a little bit of guilt at ending his life before he was actively dying, but I will always be glad that I was able to let him happily drift off into oblivion completely unaware of anything while he was still able to have a somewhat comfortable life. I can only hope for such a peaceful ending for myself someday. I hope I did right by him.

I love you, Spencer. Fly high, little man.

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