Henry the dog was a Springer Spaniel. He was the best dog in the world
Before he became the family pet he was a working dog. We’ll just say that Henry was a sniffer dog and leave it at. He had a working life of around five years and retired prematurely owing to a congenital problem with his back.
It didn’t stop him enjoying life but it ended his working career. We took him on as our pet, and what a fabulous companion he’s been.
Henry has been around since before our first-born and he has seen all four of our children come into the home. Henry has been very well loved by each of our children and that dog has put up with so much from them. They’ve prodded him, poked him, pulled his fur, gouged his eyes, pulled his tail, sat on him, hugged him and squeezed him, stolen his dinner, pulled his whiskers and countless other acts of ‘loving kindness’.
Not once has that dog ever shown aggression to any of the children. No wonder they loved him, he was their friend and playmate.
Over the last year Henry’s health has been getting progressively worse, and his joy for life has diminished.
Last week I knew we had to make a decision regarding Henry’s future. It was a decision I didn’t really want to face but my wife and I talked it through and decided that we couldn’t allow his suffering to continue.
For the rest of the week I looked at him knowing that by the end of the week, I’d be taking his life.
On the morning that I was to take him to the vet, we went for a last walk in the woods. He didn’t go very far because he just couldn’t, his ailing health had taken its toll. He still sniffed around and he still wagged his tail and this made it all the more difficult.
I parked in the road outside the vets and walked with him 20 yards or so to the clinic. He knew where he was. He’d been there before and he didn’t like it. He just looked at me and I felt my eyes water just a little.
We sat in the reception for a minute or two before getting called in, and I called him to follow me. He sat there, he wouldn’t budge. I went to pick him up and he growled. I started to hate myself for doing this to my friend.
I spoke with the vet and told her the symptoms. She knew the history and asked what I wanted to do. I could barely speak the words as I held that dog to me.
I had to sign a document before the vet would administer the lethal dose, and then I realised that it was official. I was officially going to do it. The ultimate act of kindness which also felt like the ultimate betrayal.
Before I went in I knew I was going to be staying with him. The option of leaving him alone with strangers after all we’d been through together was too repulsive.
I held his head and looked in his eyes as the vet shaved his leg to find the vein. She put the needle in and I welled up. A tear fell from my eye as I knew this was the moment, his last moment. And then I started to sob as I held his head closer to my chest. I kept looking in his eyes the whole time but I didn’t even see the life slip from him, he just kept the same fixed expression.
It was over. His lifeless body lay there on the table and we would never share another moment together.
_
You may read this and think I’ve anthropomorphised, I haven’t. Or at least I’ve tried not to. The qualities I’ve attributed to Henry were real enough. At the very least his presence enriched the lives of my family, but he meant so much more to all of us.
Not everyone feels this way about animals or pets, and I’m fine with that. It’s something for the individual, but I’ve tried to teach my children that other living creatures are to be respected and treated humanely.
The ownership of pets comes with a responsibility, an obligation to do the right thing by them.
I feel I’ve discharged that obligation by being with him in that final moment and finding it within me to look into his eyes. What I did for Henry was the right thing. I know that.
But it still hurts like hell.
Dave.
Very soon, I’ll write about how I handled this situation with my children and how it affected them.
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