Life in the Fast Lane


Please, Shadow

By 5:43 PM , , , , , , , , ,

I remember your first day like it was just yesterday. There you were, big headed and big-pawed, taking in all these new sights, scents, and sounds in your new home as if the world was your oyster. And in a way, it was.

You always held your head higher than most dogs I knew. Even as a puppy. It helped, of course, that your head and neck always looked too big for the rest of your body. And this would be your advantage one day, when you started to join dog shows.

Your show days were some of the highlights of my college years.

I remember being such a stage [human] mom whenever you were out in the ring, all those years you made your presence felt in the dog show circles. Bagging one ribbon after another, going from ring to ring. Even winning "Best of Breed" at one point. Your record was 13 ribbons in one day; there was no one happier than your handler, who would take home extra dough for every ribbon you would win.

Then people would come up to me and inquire about your, erm, services. You would cock your head as if you knew what was to come. You really did have swag long before the term was ever invented.

And you did produce the cutest puppies. Remember Hugo?

He had a huge head, just like you.

And even after your retirement, you always possessed this unbelievable and undeniable spunk. You loved life, loved food, loved all the attention. 

Then one day, you got sick. Really, really sick. You couldn't stand up, and you wouldn't eat. Not even your favorite pandesal.

Your vet said your kidneys were failing you, and I was scared. I did a lot of research and we (your humans) changed your diet and lifestyle completely after that. We didn't know how much longer you'd be with us, but we wanted to do everything in our power to keep you strong and healthy.

And in a way, Royal Canin Renal saved your life. That diagnosis was given four years ago. Thanks to Royal Canin, your zest for life returned; so did the spark in your eyes.

You and Cassie continued to play together and be each other's sidekicks.

And when Buddy came along, though you weren't friends at first (you both wanted to assert your alpha male status), you eventually accepted him into the pack.

Lately, though, you haven't been feeling well. Your appetite is nowhere to be found; the dullness and lifelessness in your eyes kill me.

Taken just this morning before you went to the vet's for confinement.

Right now, you may be fighting for your life once again. And I'm afraid. There is a tightness in my heart and lungs that can't be eased.

I'm not prepared for the worst. I want my King Goofball to come back. I want to feed you hundreds of pandesals. I want to pat your dense, coarse, "matte"-finish fur and know that you're going to be okay.

Please, please, Shadow, be okay.

As of November 26, 9:45 am, Ph. Ch. Calvary Chosen One, a.k.a. Shadow, a.k.a. Goober, Goomby, Shab, Shabby, went home to Dog Heaven. He's now happily running around, chasing after sticks, and chewing on tennis balls. The pain is indescribable, but knowing that he's no longer whimpering or suffering is what will keep me going.

I love you, Goober.

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  1. Hey Tina, praying and hoping the best for Shadow. *HUG*

  2. Thanks so much, Barbs. :( Really hurts to see dogs get older and weaker.

  3. My condolences to you and yours, Tina. Losing a dear pet is always hard. May Shadow continue to live in your hearts.

  4. Thanks so much. It never gets easy, despite going through this with each and every pet. They're family, at the end of the day. Even if they aren't human.

    Appreciate your kind words a whole lot. :)


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