“Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.” ― Rudyard Kipling
“We have a new batch of puppies,” said my cousin. “You should come see them.”
As he got off the bus I told him I would try to come by over the weekend to see the puppies. The next day was Saturday, one of those overcast gray days. And since I didn’t have anything better to do I was eager to walk the half mile to my cousin’s to see the little brood of bird dog pups. Continue reading “When a Dog Attacks”
Is it possible for humans to love animals too much?
It has been 15 months since I took my Miniature Schnauzer, Katy, to the vet and had her put to sleep. No, not put to sleep. Let’s call it what it is: I had her put to death. It was 9:14 a.m. on a Saturday morning when the vet inserted the needle into her leg. I was holding her closely, whispering “It’ll be alright. I’ve got you.” into her ear. Seconds later she slumped limply onto the table, strangely heavy in my arms. The vet put his stethoscope against her chest and pronounced that she was gone. I thought my heart would simply break.
It came upon me so suddenly that I was unprepared. Maybe the vet and his nurse had heard it before—a grown man’s anguished sobs. I didn’t really care if they saw me or not. I couldn’t really help it. The nurse was sympathetic, saying, “It can be so hard to say goodbye.” I choked out a “Yes, it is. She was such a good girl—my baby.” She had been my dog for 14 years—now she was nothing. Her little heart, always so strong, was stopped. And I did it. I murdered my little girl and the pain and guilt that descended on me was a horror.
I drove her to that vet in my truck that morning as she sat quietly, staring straight ahead during the drive–looking neither left nor right. Not at all like the younger Katy. Younger Katy was always up against the window, trying in vain to stick her head out of the crack, and barking at anything that moved. What a joy she was in her youthful vigor. But on this day she didn’t try to get up on the door. Her eyes had cataracts so she couldn’t see very well, and her hearing was going too. Her body had become covered with tumors, and she often yelped in pain when I tried to pick her up. There were some mornings when she appeared unable to get out of her bed. Sometimes she limped, and she often vomited up her food. It seemed I was in danger of waiting too long. I hated to see her struggle. Continue reading “Can You Love a Pet Too Much?”