I am a very lucky person. I haven’t had to deal with the death of anyone really close to me. All my grandparents have passed and I had a relationship with all of them but I was fairly young at the time of their deaths so I didn’t have to make any hard decisions associated with their health. Plus, they all died peacefully. 

But, there is someone who I was extremely close with that died last year. My dog. Her name was Shadoe.  I know what you’re thinking. I’m talking about a serious subject- the decision about dying – about my dog. But I have to tell you, I loved that furry creature more than about 99 per cent of the human beings on this planet.

Last fall, one night after work we were playing in the park and she wasn’t her normal frisky self so I knelt down and gave her a pet on the neck. She was a mutt with a collie mane and her neck was the softest part of her and she loved it when I stroked the little ringlets around her ears. But, that afternoon in the park she backed away from me for the first time ever. I immediately knew something was wrong. So, after taking a closer look I noticed that she had a big lump in her neck. 

After a trip to her least favourite place on earth, the vet, my worst nightmare came true. She had cancer in her throat and it had already spread to her lymph nodes. My first reaction was to do anything and everything that could be done to make Shadoe better.

Money wasn’t even in the realm of my thoughts at that moment. But, after some time and thought, spending thousands of dollars to extend a 14-year-old dog’s life by a couple more months didn’t make much sense. Plus, her quality of life would not have been the same. 

Shadoe had had a very long, happy life living in the country and swimming in the lake up at the cottage. At the old age of 14 maybe it was time to say goodbye.

My Dad, in all his practicality, told me that they weren’t going to do anything except give her some pain medication to make her as comfortable as possible. Then, since she had throat cancer and might not be able to eat in the later stages we would have to think about when we would want to put her to sleep.

I lost it.  Then, I spent the next 3 weeks dreading the day that I would have to say goodbye to my beloved Shadoe.

When we first got Shadoe on my 16th birthday I used to think, there is no way I am ever putting a dog to sleep. First, I thought, Shadoe is going to live to 100 and second, there is no way on heaven’s earth that I could “kill” my dog.

I have to say, when Shadoe got sick my opinion changed drastically.

I went to visit her one night last November. I didn’t know it was going to be our last visit. She was bounding around like a puppy again thanks to the pain medication. We played tug of war and had some great cuddles on the bed (we broke the no-dog-on-the-bed rule about 13 years ago!). I left to her looking up at me with her big green eyes and her fluffy tail wagging away.

A few hours later my Dad called. Shadoe had had a stroke and couldn’t walk or do much of anything else so they were taking her to the 24 hour vet to be put down right away. I immediately agreed. The thought of her being in pain hurt me so much that the idea of putting her too sleep was comforting in that moment. 

I just kept thinking how lucky I was that I didn’t have to see her sick like that. I will always remember Shadoe as the frisky, spunky dog she was.

Later that night, my Dad called to confirm the sad news. She was gone. But the good news was she didn’t have to suffer at all.  He said “they only do that to humans”.