1 April 2012
I remember the struggle we went through trying to decide when to put our Chesapeake Bay Retriever down. He was old for his breed, didn't get around well anymore, but he always managed to perk up for his evening walk. My Mother had told me that no matter how much pain they are in they will always perk up for walks. Oh jeez. Were we forcing him to live in pain because we were waiting for some sign to tell us when it was time? I called vets and scoured the Internet in search of answers. The consensus seemed to be that we would know when it was time. Oh really! Well, I didn't think it would ever be time. How can you let go? How can you say goodbye? Our beautiful brown Jesse had been an exceptional beast. I remember the day he and I waited alone in a secluded lot flanked by dense woods behind a nursing home. We were waiting for the other therapy dogs so we could share some puppy love with the residents there. I was sitting on a log at the edge of the woods with Jesse sitting quietly next to me. Suddenly, he began to growl. I followed his gaze to see a man in a gray jump suit approaching up the gravel drive. As he got closer, Jesse stood and began to growl loudly. The man's eyebrows went up and he waved his hands out in front of his chest, smiling. His eyes were locked on Jesse as he laughed and said "whoa there. I'm not gonna do your Mistress any harm."But he kept advancing. The hair on the back of my neck went up. Something about this guy was very bad. Jesse began to lunge and bark viciously, straining at his leash. The man's hands went down and the smile dropped from his face. He faltered, and seemed to be weighing something in his head. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked back in the direction he'd come from. I knew in my heart that Jesse had done it again. Protected his family from danger. Last time, it was a dog rushing at us up a long driveway. We couldn't see him yet but he sounded big. Like the cavalry, Jesse came crashing out of the woods and bolted down that driveway. Only to come trotting back up, seconds later. There truly was no other like him. How do you make the decision to kill that? At last, we couldn't delay it any longer. We could no longer force him to live in pain just so we could avoid this awful decision.
He went quietly, with his head on my lap. The vet had stepped out to give us privacy and we sat, quietly sobbing at the horror we had just committed. Murderers.
It's been 7 months now and I'm certain our Sheltie for some reason blames me for Jessie's disappearance. Shortly after, she peed twice on my pillow. The other day I came across some old coasters that had been given to us while Jesse was still with us. They had beautiful pictures of Chesapeake Bay Retrievers on them. I showed them to my husband who was sitting on the couch with our Sheltie, Missy. He smiled, reached for them and spoke to them as he always had to Jesse, "hey buddy"! At that, Missy shot to standing, frantically looked around then leapt from the couch to run around the house in search of Jesse. We had another good cry that day. Jesse, we love you and we all still miss you terribly.
In Memory Of Jesse • Opuss № I