Saying Goodbye to a Dear Friend

After many weeks of putting off the inevitable, my husband took our beloved dog, Blackie, to the Humane Society today to be put to sleep. She was fourteen and a half years old, mostly deaf and arthritic, had failing kidneys and liver, and was on painkillers, but what finalized the decision was her loss of bowel and bladder control. And it was at the worst possible time, when our house was on the market and had to be clean and "show-ready" at all times.

We adopted Blackie from the Humane Society shelter when she was 11 months old. They knew her mother was a black Labrador, but the father's breed was unknown. Whatever breed he was, he was responsible for Blackie's smaller size than a typical lab (55 pounds) and the kink in her tail that made it curl like a pig's tail. Our kids were 5 and 8 when we brought Blackie home to live with us. They named her and went through the obedience training classes with us. Blackie was an intelligent Alpha (except with us) dog who asserted herself over most other dogs and had an extensive vocabulary before she went mostly deaf. In the last few months, we've relied on loud claps and hand signals.

Blackie seemed to have a good last day, munching on her last dental chew and dog biscuits and taking her last car ride. At the shelter, my husband encountered another family whose dog was obviously in pain and experiencing seizures, so we were glad we didn't wait that long. Blackie was still a mostly happy dog, though it took her a long time to lay down and get up, and her "accidents" embarrassed her. She had a good life, but she was a very special and loving companion and we'll miss her a lot. Below is a photo of her taken yesterday. The white on her face and paws is from age.