Our dog Sam yelps.  This is what he does when he needs my attention.  It wasn’t always this way.  When I’d come home I used to hear the skittering of his nails across the hardwood floor before I would see him. Then moments later 80 pounds of white fur and exuberance would barrel into me from around the corner.  But it’s different now.  Sam yelps to let me know where he’s at in the house, so I can come and find him.  He is old.  His legs no longer work.  Father time has come for him.  I’m just not ready to let him go.  He is my friend.  My best friend. At times he’s been my only friend.           

The noise he makes is not a whine.

It is not a whimper.  It is not a wail.  It is a cry for help.  

Help me… Help me friend.  I cannot walk.

I remember the first day his legs gave away and he fell to the floor.  He looked up at me stupefied.  He looked up for me for an explanation.  He looked up at his best friend for help. I remember not having the words to explain it to him.

Some days when I come home, I find him in the living room looking out on places where his legs used to carry him.  When I enter the room, he looks at me and I look at him.  It’s hard for me to look at him.  I know his time is measured in minutes, hours, days.  I know that the cancer eating away at him will soon be too much for him.  But I also know he won’t let go easily.  I know he will hold on longer – longer than he should – because he thinks that’s what I want.  And because he’s a proud, strong dog who wants to make sure the rest of our family is okay.  It’s a duty he’s carried across his broad-chest swollen with pride for the last 13 years.

It crushes me to know that when his times comes – I’ll be the one who has to make the decision for him – for us.  All dog owners know this is one of the hardest decisions we have to make in life.  There is nothing humane or pleasant about it.  I only hope that when the time does come I have the strength to do what is right for – my friend, my best friend, at times my only friend.

There are good days.  Days when he smiles and wags his tail as I pick him up and carry him to the backyard to do his business.  There are bad days.  Days when I can see shame tinged across his face because I do have to carry him.  Days when I can’t get to him in time and he’s lying in a puddle of his own urine.  The look on his face is one of complete embarrassment and humiliation.  I don’t know which one of us feels worse, him or I.

I believe dogs have a sense of pride and dignity.  And I promise myself I won’t let him live an undignified life.  Every day I ask, “Sam, please let me know when it’s time to go old friend.”

Sadly, tragically, heartbreakingly… Sam lets us know.

Last Friday morning when we came home Sam was in the pool. The same pool he’d swam in for thirteen years. The very same pool he’d dive into and retrieve the ball over and over again.  Only this time it wasn’t the same Sam that went into the pool.

The legs that would no longer carry him, were no longer enough to help him swim.  They were no longer enough to let him get to the stairs.  They were no longer enough to save his life.  My friend, my best friend, at times my only friend… drowned.

I’d like to believe that he knew we didn’t have the strength to do what was necessary… and that his time had come… and that we were keeping him alive for us… and that this was his proud, strong, dignified way of letting go.  

We’ll never know for sure, but there are empty places looming large inside of me. I… we miss him.

He is my friend.  My best friend.  At times my only friend. 

Good night, sweet Prince.

Good night.

Technorati Tags: Dan Clark, Dan Nitro Clark, Nitro, American Gladiators, Gladiator Nitro, Dog, Nitro loses his dog, A tribute to my dog, My best friend is dying, Man's best friend

The first suspect:  SAM – a 13 year old male Lab, rescued 11 years ago. Frisky personality. Trustworthy, loyal but has been known to bite first and asks questions later.  He's on the injured reserve right now.  But still sneaky, crafty, and will piss on your foot before you know it. 

The second suspect: ELLA – an 8 year old female lab, rescued 6 years ago. "Moms' has a loving personality, but wasn't always the sweet doe-eyed girl you see her.  She spent some time in the pen, but who says rehab doesn't work.  She came out a different dog, but is and ex-con so not sure if she can ever be trusted.  Can a dog change it's spots?

Third Suspect: BECKHAM – Boston Terrier 6 years old.  The prodigal son or "Smiley."  Mischievous kid. Never seen hard time, but is spoiled and when he doesn't get his way —  can be unpredictable. Plus, can you ever trust anyone who smiles too much? And we've heard the ball-in-his mouth-all-the-time thing is a way to hide that sneaky smile. 

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The last suspect:  CHLOE – Boston Terrier 4 years old.  The "Playa Hater."  She's new to the Usual Round of suspects and has only been running with this crew for the last 3 weeks.  Before that she was on death row and was saved from the gas chamber by Death Row Dogs.  Like I said, she's only been around for a few weeks and is the "wild card" in the equation.  She's got "bling" on her collar – but can you ever really trust someone who has stared death in the face and is still around to talk about it? 

After intense questioning, with me and my gf playing good cop/bad cop, we immediately wrote the old guy Sam off the list.  He's got lymphoma cancer of the stomach and was in the infirmary at the time of the break-in.  

That left the 3 suspects below: CHLOE (Playa Hater), BECKHAM (Smiley), and ELLA (Moms).

We split them up and questioned them individually.  But no one was talking.  We even threatened to take away treats, walks, and sleepovers. Still nothing. This was a tight knit crew.  We tried for hours to break them to no avail. But thanks to some clever detective work, we think we finally had a suspect!  The contents of the bag were all female, so we nixed Beckham from the list, since he didn't fit the profile for a cross-dresser.  

With two suspects left, we just couldn't be certain as to whom the guilty party was.  Yet, upon closer inspection we did indeed realize we had a clue. Teeth marks on the some of destroyed pill bottles.  But after extensive forensic analysis – we still couldn't come up with a perfect match.  

Yet our instincts told us to go with the new girl Chloe.

She'd been on death row and we figured that after being locked up for so long, she just couldn't help herself to all the make up, nail polish and girlie accoutrements.  Just as we were taking her to the brig – we spotted another clue: Speckles of pink nail polish on the fur.  

But to our surprise, it wasn't on her fur.  It was on Ella's! 

The old temptress was up to her old tricks and thought she could put the blame on the new girl in town.  But Ella is guilty, guilty, guilty.  We contemplated on what the punishment should be for such a destructive act then slowly realized WE were to blame.  

Since we've gotten Chloe we've been showering her attention and love and ignoring Ella  – and you know what they say about "a woman scorned." 

So we walked, hiked, played ball and made up.  Hopefully it'll be enough to let her know she's still our girl!  Stay tuned…

Be well,

Dan

Technorati Tags: Dog stories, labrador, Boston Terrier, Funny dog stories, Funny dog, Funny pet story, Dan Clark, Nitro, Dan Nitro Clark, American Gladiators,

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