I haven’t felt the need or the want to post much here lately. After some discussions, my husband and I have decided that Cujo (our 14 year, 2 ½ month old male German Shepherd) has lived his life to the best of his ability and that his quality of life is no more.
About a year and a half ago, Cujo was diagnosed with Degenerative Myleopathy. It wasn’t a true diagnosis because that can only be proven after the dog has passed, through testing of a cross section of one of their vertebrae. I’m not doing that to Cuj. Like the vet said, if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and looks like a duck, it’s a duck.
But now, he can’t walk more than two steps without falling on his rump. He even manages to slip off his pillow bed. He hasn’t wagged his tail for weeks. I don’t think he can wag it anymore. Even his pretty, human-looking, big brown eyes are becoming cloudy. His hearing isn’t as sharp as it used to be. He’s become incontinent. I’ve done dozens of loads of laundry of towels, rags, rugs and his bed, trying to keep up with the pee, and that’s even when he wakes me up, two times every night, because he wants to go outside. The only things that seem to make him happy are food and lovin’s.
So on Thursday evening, we’ll load our precious boy into the car and take him to the vet once last time, where he’ll be put to sleep.
It’s silently killing me and Shane, the thought of saying goodbye to this big loveable goofball. I don’t know what we will do without him, having been a part of our lives for almost 13 ½ years. I worry more about Orion than I do us though, wondering how she will cope without the big brother she picked out for herself. The tears I see in my husband’s eyes, and the pain in his voice, almost scares me. He gave Cujo to me for Christmas 12 years ago.
I’m crying now as I write this, just so that the world (or whoever reads this) will know that a good dog will be leaving it. Even with the late night potty breaks, interrupted sleep, puddles of pee, and explosive diarrhea we’ve been dealing with for the last few weeks now, it hurts to think of Cujo not being with us. Cujo was a dog I wanted for about 20 years before I got him, just having to wait until I was in a place (professionally, personally and geographically) where I could have a GSD. There will be no replacing him.
I’ve cried damn near every day since we made this decision. But I feel no guilt. Like with Dixie, I just don’t want to have to do this. There’s just nothing more that can be done for him.
So we’ll hold him, hug him and kiss his face as he goes to sleep. We’ll pay the bill and walk out to the car, alone, and there we’ll probably fall apart.
