Saying goodbye to my old Roby

Roby was 17 years, 2 months and 15 days old when I took him for his final vet visit.

He had been having trouble walking for a long time, a little more than a year. And in the past few weeks, he was having a hard time squatting to pottie.

Roby didn't want anything to do with special harnesses to try to hold him up. We did successfully use a towel a few times under his belly so that he could poop in comfort, but in general, this wasn't to his liking.

Roby had never had a pottie accident in the house in 17 years, then he had two in one week. And we're talking the kind of accident that no one should ever have to see. It was gross!

He certainly didn't want to start wearing diapers, and he was having a harder and harder time making it out the doggie door, more or less spilling out of the flapping rubber onto the back porch, and struggling to climb back in the house on the way back.

He was also in pain, most likely, though I gave him a pain pill or two every day. Since dogs can't talk, I had no idea whether I was just throwing away $40 a month in pain meds or they were actually working. In any case, he took a long time to gingerly lie down and getting back up was often a huge struggle.

It was time

My vet was so kind and gentle. She explained that he would lose control of his bowels after the shot, and if there was anything in there, it would spill out. Thankfully, that didn't happen.

When the shot was given, for the first time in a long time, Roby slunk to the floor easily and looked completely relaxed and at peace. I sat with him alone for 10 minutes or so, tearing up and speaking softly to him.

I have to admit, I'm more relaxed now that Roby is gone. It pained me to watch him struggle; I always had to be careful walking around at night, because I might easily step on him (if ever there was a dog with a knack for being underfoot, it was Roby), and trying to give him antihistamines and other medication had also become nearly impossible in the last few months. He was a MASTER at eating whatever treat I was putting the medicine in and spitting out the bitter pill.

But that doesn't mean I don't miss the old bugger. We had some beautiful, sweet moments in those last few weeks, when I would carefully put him up in the bay window, which used to be his favorite spot but had become off limits with his inability to climb up and down from there. There were long sessions of gently putting a long ice pack along his whole spinal column to ease any discomfort and also keep him cool in the hot June evenings. He loved that.

And my remaining dog, Sammy, misses Roby too, even though they weren't the best of friends. They tolerated each other and knew that the other was always there for company.

We both miss Roby, but he's gone to a better, pain-free place.