Rachel’s dog Mnnie doesn’t tend to do much. She’s knocking on sixteen years old so a centurion in doggy years.
She eats, pays a visit, wanders round in circles whining when tired and while accepting of affection and petting doesn’t exactly seek it out. I’ve become immensely attached to the old thing. Even when she goes after a more varied diet by knocking the kitchen bin over.
Alas, her time has come. And for the first time in my life I’m close to a decision to put a dog down. And it’s heartbreaking. At least it’s not mine to make.
In recent weeks her ability to leap up onto furniture to snooze has become impaired. In recent days her back legs have virtually given up, meaning she collapses as she walks around the place. She’s now carried outside to pay a visit and when inside tends to lie sleeping sedately at the top end with a strange quivering passing through her hind legs.
She hates visiting the vet, so the vet has been summoned here. A final act of kindness to save her the trauma of the short walk. And while there are vague hopes that this isn’t the end the reality is going to be different. She’s lived her life, chased her cats and I can’t see those ancient legs getting better.
I lost a couple of budgies and a hamster as a child. Never had a pet as an adult. This is a lot tougher than those childhood memories. I’m not quite sure how dog owners cope with a moment that is almost inevitable though. Very sad. It’s amazing how much I think I’ll miss her.