The topic of being by myself was one that used to be met with a sense of peace. It meant I had a chance to collect my thoughts and relax. I did not realize until recently that the time I had thought was spent alone, was actually time I was spending with my best friend.
“Let it Be,” by the Beatles was playing at a volume I could slightly hear as we were making our way back home from the vet.
“Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”
Timing means everything when a devastating situation strikes. In that moment though, I felt relieved. My dog was no longer suffering and he was at peace. But damn, did my heart hurt.
We purchased my rat terrier when I was eight years old. On the way back from our one-hour trip to get him, my dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror of the car and asked with a smile, “what are you going to name him?”
I looked around, unsure of what to say. The first thing my eight-year-old self spotted was a Buddy’s Carpet sign.
“Buddy,” I replied to my Dad.
Little did I know then, that the name I had chosen would turn out to be more than perfect for the kind of dog he turned out to be.
When I would take him on walks people would look over and smile, always asking if it was okay if they could pet him. Buddy would already have his little nub tail wagging and I would nod my head. He loved people — even those who couldn’t love themselves. Over the years, we have also had rabbits, hamsters and guinea pigs in our house. A little reluctant at first, Buddy would always let it be known that he was just a little jealous. After a couple days, he would welcome the little friends into our home, kissing them whenever he got the chance and watching them intently to make sure they stayed out of trouble.
Buddy gave the term “lovable” a new kind of meaning. He always wanted attention and would not hesitate to make it known by nudging you and jumping on your lap. When you were upset, he was right next to you, kissing away your tears and making everything right in the world again.
I knew Buddy was starting to let go when he would no longer come to me at the door. I would have to go to him for him to greet me, but he acted like Buddy, extremely happy that I was around to pet and talk to him, telling him how much I loved him every day.
Nine months before putting him down, we were told he had kidney disease. As a result, we had to change his diet, which was something that he was not happy about. We also had to give him a daily thyroid pill. He would take the pill no problem, but the food was a different story.
Fast forward to the middle of January of this year, where Buddy was taking trips outside more often than he ever had, and where eating was becoming more and more scarce. The food he would take down, he was bringing back up in a matter of hours. Concerned after it continued on longer than it should have, I asked my mom to make an appointment with the vet.
The day that my mom had scheduled was one I was unable to attend. I was sitting in my late night HTML class when my little brother texted me, “do you want me to call you later?” It was in that moment I knew we were in trouble.
It seemed like the longest hour of my life before I was able to call and get the news: “Buddy has 90 percent kidney failure and it’s recommended he gets put down.”
It was then I realized I was losing my best friend.
My boyfriend had told me that night of a place that took your pet’s paw imprint in clay and informed me it was close to where I lived. I had decided that I at least wanted to do that to help ease the pain.
Over the next day, as any journalist would, I researched. I looked up when the right time to put your dog down was and what you should do, along with how to cope and how to spend your last days with your pet. I think I did this partly because I knew, and partly because I was in denial.
Buddy was not acting like himself and would look away when I called for him. Simple things that used to make his tail wag was now not creating a response. The worst of it all was that he had lost nearly nine pounds and was having a hard time holding himself up. It was almost like after he went to the vet, he knew it was coming.
Then the news of a big snowstorm surfaced. For his own sake, I knew I had to put him down as soon as possible. That Friday after I got the news, we made a family decision to put him down the following day so everyone could be present.
That night, I could not sleep. I stressed to the point of no return on whether or not I would be in the room with him when he was put down.
When the time came, I carried him in a blanket he often laid on and held him the entire time. I cannot tell you how much relief that gave me. Knowing that I was there for him when he needed me the most, after 14 years of unconditional love on his part, was more than he deserved.
In addition to the paw print, I purchased a little heart necklace that holds some of his cremated remains, an urn for his ashes and a picture frame.
It’s still hard coming home and not seeing him there to greet me, and I imagine it will be that way for a long time.
I know I did the right thing in letting him go and I do not doubt my decision to do so, but when the time comes, I hope when I choose to get a new pet, he or she will be as loving as Buddy had been for all those years.
One of the best things I came across while researching was a quote from Kelvin Kow, a clinical assistant professor at the University of Florida College of Veterinary Medicine:
“Know that the sadness of their loss is a small payment for all the joy and happiness that our departed pets have brought us,” he said.
I loved my dog with everything inside me, and he loved me back, especially in his final days. I don’t regret a thing. Doing the things that are the most upsetting in life turn out to be the ones that make you feel the most alive.
Rest in peace my sweet boy, I love you. June 26, 1999 — February 1, 2014.