by Carol Coleman

Created on: May 10, 2009   Last Updated: May 12, 2009

The Final Gift

My Gander, the dog I've had for 15 years, is dying. He has stopped eating, no longer sleeps in my room but chooses his crate. He sleeps except for brief periods in the morning when he will go outside. We've been together since the day he was born.

He has always behaved with dignity. . He has never not liked bouncy, bouncy puppies or older dogs. He treated such behavior with disdain. He was above such shenanigans. He would follow me back and forth when I mowed the lawn. Wait patiently on chilly days in the van as I did the grocery shopping. He would visit nursing homes and hospitals to visit with the people there who needed a dog to remind them of unconditional acceptance. He would talk on the phone to his beloved human friends and he would smack his lips to say thanks when an exceptional meal or treat was received.

When he was younger, he would watch me brush my teeth and insist that his teeth be brushed as well. He would jump into bed with me and fall asleep. At 15 he can no longer jump in bed, but until recently would lie beside the bed on old blankets and sheets.

Now, he stays in his crate with the door open. He sleeps and will not eat. His spleen was removed last Christmas. It had not burst, but it was malignant. We had a chance at 6 months, maybe longer. I gave us that chance. Now, I watch as he prepares to die. I just want to give him every possible chance to choose to stay with me. I want a miracle. I tempt him with his favorite treats. I take him out when the sun is shining and the air is warm. I let him feel the grass and remember his runs and pretend hunts. Nothing is tempting him. The only call he hears is the one that says, "Rest, sleep".

I keep hoping that he will recover. But, he does not get better. He is hanging on at a price I can not understand. I look for little things to show me that he wants to live. Those signs are not there. His food bowl with his favorite food goes untouched until I empty it. He no longer wants to go out in the evening or before bed. He stands and looks confused.

There is one last gift that I can give to him. The gift of a dignified death. A gift that will allow him to go without more suffering. A gift that will help him but hurt me. My heart will break no matter when or how he goes. My tears will flow and I will be without him. Part of me will never recover, part of me will die with him. Some day the memory of our time together will bring joy and help me face my future.

Soon, far too soon, it will be time for one last trip to his vet. The one who said that he would be there to help him die. It will be calm and I will see my Gander at ease one last time. I hate it. I know that I will miss him. I know that I want to gift him with treats, bones, long walks and time together. But this is the gift that he needs. And it hurts to know that if I love him, I will give him this final, permanent gift of Death. And he will give me a gift when he goes. How to face death with dignity and calm.

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