Today, I had my dog put down.
For the past three or so days, Jackie couldn't walk. At first, I thought something was just wrong with one of her legs and that it would be better after some rest. It didn't and she became unable to lift herself up on all fours. She developed a nasty pressure sore on her elbow that looked like a crater.
She wouldn't eat. I had to hold her up on the grass to get her to do her business but then it just became too stressful for her. One evening, while trying to help her urinate, I slipped and couldn't catch her in time. She fell sideways into the mud but the worst part was that she had this look of exhaustion and resignation on her face and just laid there not even trying to get up. I took her in and placed her on soft mats.
She spent her last days laying down. Her cries kept me up at night. I would go down and turn her over to ease the pain and prevent another sore. She tried hard to get up but couldn't seem to twist her hip. We tried to comfort her any way we could. We gave her water when she was thirsty and cleaned up after her. As the days went on, she cried more and more but she didn't want anything to eat or drink. She would quiet down only if somebody would stay with her and pat her head. It seemed that the loneliness was worse than the hunger. Perhaps dogs are more human than I thought.
The vet said that all he could offer were painkillers but that would only delay the inevitable. Truth be told, Jackie was a very old dog; twelve years old in fact. This was not unexpected but it seemed to all come so suddenly. The vet came over and after his assessment, told me it had to be done.
I didn't want to see it but I felt compelled to stay. I patted her on the head gently as the doctor used the first syringe. I patted her as she trembled a little. The doctor assured me that the procedure was painless. I left when they used the solution that stops the heart and went to my room instead. I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry. I did. I couldn't help it. I cried alone in my room as I always do in moments like this. I thought I wouldn't. After all, Jackie was just a dog and that she was a very old dog. Still, it was a truly sad and pathetic sight to see.
We buried her underneath a Kaymito tree in a shady part of the yard. The place was a bit overgrown but peaceful and cool. A stone slab and her bowl are all that indicate her final resting place.
Do dogs have souls? My mother believes that when an illness is about to afflict a family member, the dog heroically absorbs it instead. A wives' tale but a comforting thought. I feel regret that I took Jackie for granted many times and that I wasn't the best dog owner in the world. But then again she was a simple dog. She was lazy and thought that the best thing in the world was to eat food. That was easy to satisfy of course, especially since I am of a similar mindset. She would practically eat anything you offered her. My mother and I called her "The Fat Pig", joking that she was a greedy omnivorous pig disguised as a dog. Once, I gave her a banana and she ate it. She would even eat the bland Tambis fruits if you gave it to her.
I miss her already.
I miss her already.
At least her suffering is over and that there's no more cries of pain but I think I'm still going to have a hard time sleeping tonight.
