Mokey's last day. We dropped off his little brother Duke, the Schnauzer, off with my wife's folks. Mokey and I went to an off leash park and walked around. I would have bought him a quart of ice cream, but his liver cancer killed his appetite. The mass had gotten so big that it was squeezing his stomach, making him think that he was full. He could hardly drink water.
We went to the vet, and I laid on the floor with him and rubbed his butt(his favorite thing in the whole world) while they first gave him the sedative, and then the other stuff. I know that he is now chasing rabbits and hanging out with other dogs. The nausea and the pain are gone.
My wife and I are going to be hurting for awhile. My kids don't seem to be feeling it right now, but that's how it goes with them. A few weeks or months from now, I will notice my daughter crying for no apparent reason. She will tell me that she really misses Mokey.
There were times in my life when I was an asshole to my pets. I regret that profoundly. Every time I have had to deal with the death of a pet, I find myself becoming more patient and loving with the ones still around or with new ones. Personally, I feel that a condition of me being allowed into heaven, will be that I have to atone for the times I was a jerk to my pets. Purgatory for me will involve rubbing a lot of dog butts, brushing, scratching behind the ears and probably shoveling a bunch of dog poop. I'm Ok with that, as long as I don't have to deal with cats :-)
