Tearful Goodbye's

“Mr. Vincent?” Not yet I thought.

I'm fishing on the boat dock at the lake. As I cast the line I hear him. I turn and see my 6 month old chocolate lab, Shoog, loping down the hill, as only a lanky young pup can. His eyes are glazed over in joy as he looks at me. His four feet flooping in all directions at once as he gains speed. I feel honored that this young dog is so enamored with me that he would come running down here just to be with me. The faint footsteps that made me look up are now growing louder and faster as he gets closer and gains more speed.

“Shoog!” I say as he touches the edge of the dock. I open my arms, kneeling down, in anticipation of getting bowled over. He doesn't look up, his eyes locked on the end of the dock.

“Shoog!?” I turn my head quickly as he speeds past me, leaving me empty handed. I listen to his feet making comical sounds upon the well worn wood of the dock.

“Shoog, NOOOO!” I yell, watching as he launches himself into the embrace of the deep water off the end. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. I'm dumbfounded. As I watch, my dog swims for all he is worth, ecstatic in his newest trick and discovery. I hear laughing. I turn and see my wife, young, happy, and laughing hysterically at the top of the hill. I look at myself kneeling with my arms, and mouth, still open and begin to giggle in spite of myself. Laughing louder, I shake my head and pick up my fishing rod. I run up the hill after her with a big, brown, happy, wet dog following closely behind.

“Mr. Vincent?!” I'm not ready.

I'm home from a 12 hour day. The thunderstorm breaks with a huge lightning strike just as I pull into the road my house is on. Pulling into the driveway, I gather myself and open the door. I run into the house trying, unsuccessfully, to avoid getting wet. As I pull off my over coat, I walk into the living room, where my wife 10 years older, and looking much more concerned, is huddled over a wet brown mass.

“He wouldn't come in when I called...then that bolt of lightning....then he came in and collapsed.” she says looking up, slightly panicked, with the beginning of tears in her eyes.

I look down and see Shoog, on the floor convulsing, his back foot slowly smoldering. I reach down, and slowly stroke him. He's still breathing and the convulsions are subsiding. After a minute or two, he raises his head and looks at me. His eyes are still dilated from the fear of the lightning bolt. Slowly, he rolls over and stands up, trying to shake the water from his coat. My wife and I both laugh with relief.

“Mr. Vincent! Are you ok?” the veterinarian asks, with more than a little concern.

My wife is here,tearful, holding my hunched shoulders. I'm crying like a child. Shoog is here, slightly confused by our emotions, still trying to attend to us, but unable to because of his pain.

“Lightning didn't get him 9 years ago, always remember that. Unfortunately, the arthritis in his hips is untreatable and the pain medications aren't providing any relief. You know this is the only option.”

Nodding somberly, I pull myself together, and sign the paperwork. My wife holds my shoulders for support, hers and mine.

“Are you sure you want to stay for this?” the vet asks.

“I have to, I owe him that much. I know he doesn't understand.” I reach out and pet his head causing him to groan as he responds to the touch.

The vet carefully inserts the needle into the vein in his front leg, pulls on the plunger changing the pink fluid in the needle to a bright red and slowly seats the plunger in the needle, emptying the contents. Slowly, Shoogs head nods down, his eyes close, his body tenses for a moment and the life in his eyes go out. Tearfully, I feel all the weight of my years, wishing for many things that were.

Dedicated to Teddy Bear

To my best 4 footed Buddy. Be happy and run hard.

Sept. 1984 - Dec. 31, 2002