She's gone.
Posted: June 17, 2019, 6:02 pm
She's gone. My avatar is no more. She got the needle at 12:15 pm today. In just a few days, she had wasted away. Her muscle tone was gone. Her MUSCLES were gone. She could not stand up, she could not sit, she could not lay down. She had been excreting blood for about a month. Yesterday her jaw swelled up and for the first time in our relationship, she approached me without cause. She did not want food, she did not want water. She did not even want to ride in the truck. Yet throughout all of this, she never complained. At the vet, she was a totally different animal. She completely ignored me. The nurse was able to lead her away from me into the room without the least of resistance. Never before did she so willingly leave my side. Ten minutes later, while in my arms, she was gone.
Eleven and a half years ago, I had lost my previous dog when she was mauled by a pack of javelina. She survived the attack but fell off the table within days. I swore that I would NEVER get another dog. But a few days afterward I would find my yard gate open or smell the urine of cats in the yard. So, after a few weeks, I decided to get a yard dog. I definitely did not want another companion animal; it was simply too painful to put them down. I looked for another few weeks until I found her. She was 3 years old and at least 15 pounds under-weight and animal control refused to give her to me because they were sure that she was about to die. But there was something about her that I could not shake. So I persisted and she was mine. At least temporarily for the next thirty days, dependent upon whether I could keep her alive.
When asked to name her, I saw how sickly she was, how orange her coat was, and thought how short her life was going to be, and I thought of that kid on South Park who died in some comical way every week. So, I named her Kenny. But my friends kept complaining that you could not name a female animal Kenny, so I changed it to Kenniegirl.
When I got her home, she would not eat. I tried all different types of food with no success. Well, I am a lifelong troubleshooter, not prone to hesitation, so I took her out into the desert for a long walk. I figured that if she was going to die, let's get it over quick. For an emaciated animal, she pulled so hard on that leash that I was completely exhausted after the mile and a half walk. But when we got home, she actually nibbled on some food. So it became a habit. Every morning we would go for a long walk in the desert. For 11 years, rain or shine, at least 1 long walk every day.
That second day, I just could not hold onto that leash, so I simply let it go. She had that chip in her. If I lost her, she would end up back at animal control (something I promised her when we left that place. If you don't run away, you will never again go back there.) As expected, she would wander away, so I began to play a lifelong game with her. If she got more than 50 feet away, I would hide behind a large boulder or bush and simply wait. Sure enough, She would find me every time and I could see in her eyes a great relief. Eventually, and it did not take long, she never left my side. But on this second day, she eyed a rabbit and took off. I did not think much of it at first, but about 40 minutes later, I thought that I lost her. I searched for over an hour to no avail. Eventually I gave up and headed back to the truck, where she was sitting on its hood. It was at that time that I realized that she was a keeper.
It was about a week later that I discovered that she was half coyote. You may not know this, but you can't train a coyote like you do a dog. I got angry at her once and she refused to come near me for three weeks.
In these past 11 plus years, she has been hit by an SUV, bitten, attacked, or stung by every type of creature that Arizona can offer, and was spayed TWICE. But she never complained. Once a friend I was visiting accidentally left her in his spare garage. We searched the plains for hours, looking for an animal that never leaves its owner's side. We called for her. She never answered. She just sat quietly in that garage until we re-opened the door.
I was actually thrown off of Kitt Peak Mountain because of her. She had become so trustworthy that I never even thought about the leash, but a hyper frightful guide panicked so much and put up such a stink that I ended up facing helicopter police, reservation police, a county sheriff and of course the Kitt Peak Observatory management, who all decided that it would be better if both she and I were to get off of the mountain and never return.
We went everywhere together. The supermarket, stores, vacations, friends. She even worked herself into the local bowling alley once (we still don't know how she got through the door). everybody loved her. well everybody except for a certain white shepherd dog that a friend owned. They seemed to find a reason to attack each other whenever they got together. Yet both were the most loveable animal when they were alone.
It took me a year to stop her from bringing me rattlesnakes. At least, most of them were dead when I found them on the kitchen floor. Although I still think there is one hiding somewhere in the spare bedroom. At night I can hear rattling in my dreams.
For the last five years of my job, I would bring her with me to work sites. She absolutely loved riding in that big lift truck. Of course the boss hated it, as did some of the workers on the other shifts who constantly complained about hairs in their coffee while they were driving (there weren't any). Eventually I left that job because of the political incorrectness of owning a coydog.
Once I was travelling all the way into northwest New Mexico, when I realized that she, who had been quiet for at least 8 hours, must have needed to go outside. So in the middle of nowhere (really, you haven't been lost until you visited the nether reaches of New Mexico), I opened the truck door. What happen next surprised me. She hit the ground at least 20 feet from the truck and took off. Apparently she eyed a deer. I saw her run after that deer, at least a quarter mile away until they were both over the horizon. For the second time in our relationship, I thought she was gone. But a few hours of looking, standing on the truck toolbox with binoculars, and driving all along that dirt road, I finally found her. But instead of running to me, she sort of waddled. And I noticed that her gut was swollen. I first thought "No! She couldn't have eaten that deer." But at least I had her again. I was so relieved that I forgot why I went to New Mexico, and just drove back home. On the way, I kept smelling skunk. It was raining and I had the windows open. (I always had to have the windows open or she would panic. Rain, shine, cold, heat. didn't matter. If we were in the truck the windows were open). I just figured that I kept driving past skunks that ran into the road to escape the flooded prairie and got run over by cars. But I never saw anything in the road.
I tried to smell the coyote while driving but she smelled normal. Then I noticed that she farted. and sure enough, there was that skunk smell. That was when I learned that a coyote's favorite food is rotting skunk carcass.
There were so many other adventures that we shared over these past 11 plus years. But it will all soon become nothing more than a memory. She is my very first animal of which I do not have a photograph.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my moral fiber, I know that I did the right thing. Even the vet said she would not have lived more than a few days, and they would have been painful ones. But it doesn't detract from the fact that I just killed my beloved companion. This is my third euthanasia. And it never gets easy. I have wiped the tears from my keyboard at least three times since sitting down to write this memorial.
This morning, we went for a walk. All the time I knew this was her last walk. She did not know, but I did. She moved so slowly. even her excited bursts of spontaneity were nothing more than a slow movement. I felt so guilty. I was actually thinking of the relief I would feel not having this old dying animal holding me down. How could something think like this. What was wrong with me.
Now I go home to a house with uneaten dog food. Water dishes that still have the water in them, never again to be lapped up, and dog hair. Yes dog hair. Lots of dog hair. Dog hair on the floor. Dog hair on the bed. Dog hair in the bathtub. Dog hair in the cupboard.
I knew this girl longer than I have known ANY female of ANY species. I just lost my best friend.
One thing is for sure. No more dogs for me. I can't go through anymore.
Eleven and a half years ago, I had lost my previous dog when she was mauled by a pack of javelina. She survived the attack but fell off the table within days. I swore that I would NEVER get another dog. But a few days afterward I would find my yard gate open or smell the urine of cats in the yard. So, after a few weeks, I decided to get a yard dog. I definitely did not want another companion animal; it was simply too painful to put them down. I looked for another few weeks until I found her. She was 3 years old and at least 15 pounds under-weight and animal control refused to give her to me because they were sure that she was about to die. But there was something about her that I could not shake. So I persisted and she was mine. At least temporarily for the next thirty days, dependent upon whether I could keep her alive.
When asked to name her, I saw how sickly she was, how orange her coat was, and thought how short her life was going to be, and I thought of that kid on South Park who died in some comical way every week. So, I named her Kenny. But my friends kept complaining that you could not name a female animal Kenny, so I changed it to Kenniegirl.
When I got her home, she would not eat. I tried all different types of food with no success. Well, I am a lifelong troubleshooter, not prone to hesitation, so I took her out into the desert for a long walk. I figured that if she was going to die, let's get it over quick. For an emaciated animal, she pulled so hard on that leash that I was completely exhausted after the mile and a half walk. But when we got home, she actually nibbled on some food. So it became a habit. Every morning we would go for a long walk in the desert. For 11 years, rain or shine, at least 1 long walk every day.
That second day, I just could not hold onto that leash, so I simply let it go. She had that chip in her. If I lost her, she would end up back at animal control (something I promised her when we left that place. If you don't run away, you will never again go back there.) As expected, she would wander away, so I began to play a lifelong game with her. If she got more than 50 feet away, I would hide behind a large boulder or bush and simply wait. Sure enough, She would find me every time and I could see in her eyes a great relief. Eventually, and it did not take long, she never left my side. But on this second day, she eyed a rabbit and took off. I did not think much of it at first, but about 40 minutes later, I thought that I lost her. I searched for over an hour to no avail. Eventually I gave up and headed back to the truck, where she was sitting on its hood. It was at that time that I realized that she was a keeper.
It was about a week later that I discovered that she was half coyote. You may not know this, but you can't train a coyote like you do a dog. I got angry at her once and she refused to come near me for three weeks.
In these past 11 plus years, she has been hit by an SUV, bitten, attacked, or stung by every type of creature that Arizona can offer, and was spayed TWICE. But she never complained. Once a friend I was visiting accidentally left her in his spare garage. We searched the plains for hours, looking for an animal that never leaves its owner's side. We called for her. She never answered. She just sat quietly in that garage until we re-opened the door.
I was actually thrown off of Kitt Peak Mountain because of her. She had become so trustworthy that I never even thought about the leash, but a hyper frightful guide panicked so much and put up such a stink that I ended up facing helicopter police, reservation police, a county sheriff and of course the Kitt Peak Observatory management, who all decided that it would be better if both she and I were to get off of the mountain and never return.
We went everywhere together. The supermarket, stores, vacations, friends. She even worked herself into the local bowling alley once (we still don't know how she got through the door). everybody loved her. well everybody except for a certain white shepherd dog that a friend owned. They seemed to find a reason to attack each other whenever they got together. Yet both were the most loveable animal when they were alone.
It took me a year to stop her from bringing me rattlesnakes. At least, most of them were dead when I found them on the kitchen floor. Although I still think there is one hiding somewhere in the spare bedroom. At night I can hear rattling in my dreams.
For the last five years of my job, I would bring her with me to work sites. She absolutely loved riding in that big lift truck. Of course the boss hated it, as did some of the workers on the other shifts who constantly complained about hairs in their coffee while they were driving (there weren't any). Eventually I left that job because of the political incorrectness of owning a coydog.
Once I was travelling all the way into northwest New Mexico, when I realized that she, who had been quiet for at least 8 hours, must have needed to go outside. So in the middle of nowhere (really, you haven't been lost until you visited the nether reaches of New Mexico), I opened the truck door. What happen next surprised me. She hit the ground at least 20 feet from the truck and took off. Apparently she eyed a deer. I saw her run after that deer, at least a quarter mile away until they were both over the horizon. For the second time in our relationship, I thought she was gone. But a few hours of looking, standing on the truck toolbox with binoculars, and driving all along that dirt road, I finally found her. But instead of running to me, she sort of waddled. And I noticed that her gut was swollen. I first thought "No! She couldn't have eaten that deer." But at least I had her again. I was so relieved that I forgot why I went to New Mexico, and just drove back home. On the way, I kept smelling skunk. It was raining and I had the windows open. (I always had to have the windows open or she would panic. Rain, shine, cold, heat. didn't matter. If we were in the truck the windows were open). I just figured that I kept driving past skunks that ran into the road to escape the flooded prairie and got run over by cars. But I never saw anything in the road.
I tried to smell the coyote while driving but she smelled normal. Then I noticed that she farted. and sure enough, there was that skunk smell. That was when I learned that a coyote's favorite food is rotting skunk carcass.
There were so many other adventures that we shared over these past 11 plus years. But it will all soon become nothing more than a memory. She is my very first animal of which I do not have a photograph.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my moral fiber, I know that I did the right thing. Even the vet said she would not have lived more than a few days, and they would have been painful ones. But it doesn't detract from the fact that I just killed my beloved companion. This is my third euthanasia. And it never gets easy. I have wiped the tears from my keyboard at least three times since sitting down to write this memorial.
This morning, we went for a walk. All the time I knew this was her last walk. She did not know, but I did. She moved so slowly. even her excited bursts of spontaneity were nothing more than a slow movement. I felt so guilty. I was actually thinking of the relief I would feel not having this old dying animal holding me down. How could something think like this. What was wrong with me.
Now I go home to a house with uneaten dog food. Water dishes that still have the water in them, never again to be lapped up, and dog hair. Yes dog hair. Lots of dog hair. Dog hair on the floor. Dog hair on the bed. Dog hair in the bathtub. Dog hair in the cupboard.
I knew this girl longer than I have known ANY female of ANY species. I just lost my best friend.
One thing is for sure. No more dogs for me. I can't go through anymore.
