by Kelli Bowen
We are a dog family. Shortly after Hubby and I were married, we brought home our first dog, a pug: Tugger. Then a few years later, after we bought our first house, we adopted another pug: Jack. Then as old age caught up with Tugger, we adopted a shepherd mutt: Denali.
We worried how Jack would be without Tugger around and we somehow thought Denali would help. When Tugger was 15, we said goodbye. Old age had caught up with him. In the years since, Jack has not given two hoots that Denali exists. Other than helping to bark at cars that dare drive on our block, Jack didn't bond with Denali.
Miss E claimed Denali. Tugger was Hubby’s, and by default Jack is mine. Let’s be clear: they all started as mine and then ended up someone else’s.
Jack was adopted from a shelter in Nebraska after being returned three times because he was un-house-trainable. He had obviously been abused as he was afraid of EVERYTHING when we got him. After months and months of patience, cleaning and training, Jack got house trained. He was afraid of the click-clacking his paws made on hard floors so we laid down rugs.
We took him to the vet when he was drastically losing weight. A lot of tests were run. "He’s old, feed him whatever he wants," was the diagnosis. Then we found he was afraid of the food dish moving across the floor as he ate, so he’d walk away, and one of his siblings would steal his food. We started feeding him directly on the floor, and he gained weight.
We took him to the vet when he was lethargic and were told he’s very old and in human years, he’d be older than any living human. We said, "This isn’t that appointment - just give us some medicine," and Jack got better.
His eyes are clouded, his hearing is all but gone, and he isn’t afraid anymore. He shuffles around our house scouting for food or feet to curl up on. His back legs are starting to go, but he still dances for cheese and his little curled tail twitches back and forth as he smiles when we come home each day.
He’s starting to have accidents, but never in his crate. Sometimes while struggling to stand, he’ll have an accident, and we’ll clean him and the floor and move on. Our carpet shampooer is on standby at all times.
Jack is 17 now. We’ve talked to the girls about the inevitable. We’ve talked about making the decision when his quality of life isn’t there. Miss A and I shed lots of tears the other night after an episode where Jack went down and for a moment. I didn’t know if he’d get up.
Miss A told me that she asked Jesus to let Jack live forever and she didn’t want to hear anything that may be contrary to that happening.
I’m looking down the barrel of almost two decades of being a Pug Mom and soon will be pug-less. Each day we wake up wondering if today is the day. Is it time to say goodbye to our 15-year companion who’s been with us through four houses, numerous camping trips, and two kids?
Are we saying Hello to a one-dog era? We haven’t had only one dog since 2006. Hubby is excited about one-dog life.
As we try to steel our nerves to say goodbye, I’m also keeping my heart open for a Hello. Besides, I may have already reached out to a couple of rescues. Shhh don’t tell Hubby.
Kelli makes her home in Cass County with her husband, two daughters (11 and 8) and two dogs. She works for a regional seed company by day and tries to be an alright mom, wife, friend and writer by night.
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