On Tuesday, our 17-year-old beagle was euthanized. It wasn't for any one specific issue, but for a lot of little issues that were starting to affect his quality of life. He was pretty much blind and deaf, could not go down stairs without falling most of the time, and was starting to lose his balance. Last Wednesday, he had a serious neurological episode where he lost control of his limbs and bodily functions, and we knew it was time. It was nice, as far as euthanasias go. He had a great last few days, filled with car rides and burritos and chicken and french fries. The vet came to the house and he died comfortably, sleeping on one of his favorite beds. Certainly a much more peaceful death than some I've witnessed.
He wasn't Lassie, but he wasn't Marley either. He was obsessed with food and new smells (I called him "the nose that happened to be attached to a few legs"), but was one of the sweetest dogs I've ever known. He let kids climb all over him and never so much as growled at any human. He wasn't fond of other dogs, but eventually learned how to co-exist peacefully. He was willing to try almost any kind of food and would lick any pot clean. I pretty much dread cooking now, since I won't have him to clean the dishes off before they go into the dishwasher. I miss his scent, his snoring, and his pretty much constant presence. The house seems much emptier without him.
Good-bye Copper dog. We'll miss you.
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