I'm sorry to say Timmy was euthanised on Wednesday.
Timmy was 16 years and 5 months. She had dog dementia and arthritis. She was managing back in June. But one day, at the beach, it was stormy and dark and then a rainbow came out. It seemed like a powerful message: that I was free to let Timmy go. Send her over the Rainbow Bridge, no less - though I don’t believe in the Rainbow Bridge.
I booked a vet to do it, then cancelled. I was distraught even thinking about it. My poor dog was ready but I was not.
Her physical and mental problems increased. On Tuesday 8th September, she suddenly declined. On our morning sniffy-walk, she stopped every couple of feet. It was clearly hard for her to walk and I realised that the time had come.
What was I waiting for? It was already too late; she was suffering if she couldn't walk, didn't sniff. Sometimes, you don't see what's in front of you until too late.
It was planned but it wasn't peaceful. She was frightened by the strange visitors and yelped when they gave the first shot. They put a muzzle on, after she'd been sedated, in order to insert the needle. Muzzling my gentle, sweet dog broke me - she'd never worn one before.
I was encouraged to hold her but her head faced away. I couldn't see her lovely eyes as the light went out of them. I was nervous, too nervous to say what I wanted. I wanted time but it all happened so quickly. I babbled my goodbyes and felt self-conscious while I fell to pieces.
Even in the midst of her dementia, Timmy was bonded to me. She'd stopped doing many things but she never stopped being her self - her solid, lovely, doggy presence in our home.
At night, we'd be in the living room. She'd leave her bed to sleep in the bedroom...but wander back again, stand in the door and look…at me.
"There she is. Here I am."
Tonight, nothing's right. My floor - where she was held down, muzzled and prepared for the procedure - has tufts of her fur here and there. My poor dog was afraid during her last waking moments. I so wish it had been different.
I had waited for a sign. Something to show that it was time to call it quits. Now, I see that if you wait til then, it's already too late.
She was my first dog; the dog of my recovery, and the dog who was by my side as I learned about gentle, effective dog training.
Sadly, she was the dog who had to suffer my years of stupidity, following Pack Leaders, charlatans and self-styled training gurus. I have to forgive myself. I had no idea how harmful these ideas are and how they corrode your relationship with your dog.
I went to this and that phony trainer, even went to a dog school named, ahem, Alpha. Oh, woe.
Timmy became unpredictable around other dogs. She was dog-reactive and this was a problem I couldn't understand, yet alone manage or cure. But thank goodness for problems! They eventually led me to the world of modern dog training.
I attended a seminar on dog behaviour at the RSPCA and my world was transformed. My journey into positive reinforcement, rewards-based training began.
Now, I realise that I’m a beginner and will always be a learner, the way our animals are learners. We’re always teaching them and they’re always training us. Timmy's legacy will endure.
Tonight, her dog beds are cold and unfilled. In this room, there are four, each smelling of her buttery fur. There are dog hairs between the keys of my laptop.
And deep in my heart, there’s a small dog that came from a pet shop, who chased balls, sniffed everything, loved the beach and somehow, incredibly, mercifully, seemed to love me.
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