I miss my dog.
It just occurred to me that the two year anniversary of when we had to put him down due to his fledging health is right around the corner.
Around this time in 2011 (the lead picture is about six months prior) he got into some heavy chocolate and sugar cake.
Normally, he could eat it without any complications; he had an iron stomach. Seriously. It’s not like we purposefully fed him fast food or sugary foods or anything, but whenever he would steal dinners from us, it never negatively affected him.
He was Elvis, Master of the Iron Stomach.
However, after eating that dessert he started acting really strange. He started staying outside longer, sleeping more often, and I had to drag him into the house from the backyard on several occasions.
Then, my dad and I found him in the basement on the cold cement floor just lying there. He wasn’t letting us get near him. We finally took him to the ER vet for testing after an arduous lifting process from the basement to my truck.
After several tests were completed, the doctor told us that Elvis had developed severe diabetes, kidney failure, and pancreas problems. We were at a loss. It just happened so suddenly and he was only five when all of these issues came up out of nowhere.
The doctor told us to wait a few more days before we made any decisions. That was Sunday afternoon.
By Tuesday morning we were told that euthanization was the kindest thing to do. He was no longer stable and was not recovering.
My dad and I went to the hospital, spent a good 10 minutes saying our goodbyes, crying the whole time, then the doctor came in and gave him the shot. It took less than 25 percent of what was necessary for him to go meaning he was already verge and we gave him the necessary nudge.
I still cry thinking about that day.
We tearfully watched them cart away his body knowing we’d get him back in a giant wooden box. We paid the bill, went home and did what all people do in times of despair: we each took a carton of ice-cream and watch our favorite TV shows.
I made the phone calls to the family members. They all offered their condolences, like you do when something terrible happens.
When my mom came home from work, she started to cry and we had a TV style family hug in our kitchen.
I miss him. I miss my dog who used to think it was OK to climb onto the couch with me while I was napping on a summer afternoon even though he never fit. I miss the overly excited welcome whenever I came home from college. I miss the dog breath whenever he kissed me.
I miss my buddy. I just wish I got to spend more time with him.
I love you, Elvis.