Living with a dog when you know the time is growing short is one of the hardest things there is. You don't want to let them go but you don't want to make them stay past their time. Ranger and I had an agreement from very early on in our relationship. I promised to give him the most awesome life possible and his part of the deal was to go whenever it was time and to not make me decide when it was time. I did a good job keeping up my end of the deal but Ranger did not hold up his end of the agreement. Fortunately for me Ranger is an excellent communicator and he did let me know when he was ready to go. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one Ranger had to communicate that readiness to; and the others weren't as good at listening.
We'd been watch Ranger become increasingly frail for awhile but the beginning of the end is easy to pinpoint. My son woke me up about 4:00 a.m. one morning. He'd noticed Ranger exhibiting more signs of pain after the rest of us had gone to bed so he chose to sit up with Ranger and noticed that all three cats and the other dog, Finna, were also sitting with Ranger. It had begun to freak my son out that all the other critters were keeping vigil and that Ranger was in pain. He came to get me and I said I'd sit with Ranger. Watching my beloved dog struggling and seeing him in pain I ask and Ranger said it was OK I could let him go now. I resolved to call the vet after breakfast. Before I could make that call there was an incoming call and while I was talking to that person Ranger indicated to my husband that he wanted a walk. I got off the phone and couldn't find them anywhere. I finally called my husband to ask where they were. As had been the custom for the last few weeks I drove to where they were and loaded Ranger into the car to bring him home. He seemed a lot more comfortable for his walk and at the urging of husband and daughter I held off on calling the vet for that last appointment.
The next few days were difficult filled with happy moments when Ranger would make us all laugh with his brilliance. He discovered that he could in effect order off the menu. He was getting dog friendly frozen yogurt, cancer fighting herbs mixed with coconut oil, lightly cooked raw dog food mixed with healthy pureed greens, and special potions. Potions is the name we gave his iron rich foods that we would blend and freeze. Ranger discovered that he could show us the dish for the food he wanted and someone would bring him more. And sad moment when we'd help him up and he'd only be able to walk a couple of steps before he'd collapse. Thank heaven he was wearing a help 'em up harness with a handle at the hips and one mid-back. It would have been a serious challenge to manage a 90 lb dog without the harness. Despite the high points it was clear to me and to my son that Ranger was ready to be done but my husband and daughter took every brief good moment as a sign that it wasn't time. They weren't ready to let him go. Truthfully none of us were ready but my son and I were ready to hear what Ranger was saying, the other two were not.
Through all of this the cats and Finna continued to sit vigil with Ranger. There was always at least one other critter with him. Even Meowzart, that cat that really doesn't like dogs, was there, often close enough to drape his tail over Ranger's paws. My daughter was on call for Ranger each night. We increased his pain meds and added CBD oil. My ever practical son dug a grave. And life went on in our new normal.
Then the day arrived. Ranger was crying with pain and we'd maxed out the pain meds. Everyone agreed it was time. Our wonderful vet had offered to come to us or have us bring him in when the time came. She scheduled us for after work hours and because it was a cold November day we opted to go to her. It would be very dark by the time she got to us and with Finna in the picture we'd be euthanizing him outside. Everyone said their good byes and my son and I loaded Ranger into the car and took him to the vet. My son chose to wait in the car while the vet and I helped Ranger into her practice. She'd set everything up in the treatment room including a air infuser with her own special blend of calming smells. Ranger collapsed in the waiting room and rather than make him get up and walk further she moved everything out to him. She gave me string cheese to feed Ranger while she prepped things and he enjoyed that. As she was getting ready she asked me leading questions to draw out good memories of life with Ranger. And while I stroked his head and talked about what an amazing dog he was and all the people whose lives he'd touched she did what was necessary to let him go peacefully.
I'd thoughtfully brought a big blanket which we spread in the back of my small SUV and with the vet and her fiance Ranger's body was loaded into the car. When my son and I got home we unloaded Ranger and brought him in the house. We wanted all the critters to have a chance to know that he was gone. It was interesting watching the reactions of the others. The cats couldn't have cared less. None of them came to sniff or investigate. When I picked up Purrcasso and put him on the edge of the blanket he simply walked away. Finna, however, came back repeatedly to sniff and check. We made a paw print plaque in plaster and cut a lock of fur. When we were done my son and I took Ranger's body and buried him in one of his favorite places.
And thus began the hard part of informing people and adjusting to life without him. We'll talk about that in The Best Ones Should Live Forever Part III.
