Stalker62
Well-Known Member
"Sam", our ESS was going to be 13 in July - so about 78 years-old in human terms.
I had held him in my hand (literally in the palm of my hand) nearly 13 years ago, and decided he was coming home with me. He had a ridiculous patch on his right rump, and it just made me smile. He was going home with me.
Fo the next decade and a bit, he allowed us to share his life with him. He was a joy. He was kind, sensitive and an utter joy. He seemed to have a sense of humour. A daft statement to make about a dog, but he made me laugh, and he seemed to know he made me laugh.
He was not the best dog on the Shoot, but then neither am I the best Keeper - but he enjoyed his days on the pheasants.
When we took on a young Cocker (almost three year ago now), the Old Bear was so very gentle with her. The Cocker Bitch ruled the house, and the Old Bear loved her.
This year the Old Bear had started to slow down. He no longer had the appetite for those long walks, we all used to cherish. A quick scoot over the road into the forest was enough for him. I would drop him back home, and then go out on a Yomp with the Cocker. He always managed to look forlorn as I did so, but it was all getting a wee bit much for him. I would shamelessly bribe him with a 'chew stick', as I dashed out of the door again with the Cocker. It was a fair bargain, and he knew it.
In the last month or so, his back legs had begun to weaken. A sure sign that things are perhaps coming to the end. He started to go off his food (unlike any Spaniel), and he had a trip out to the Vets about a month ago. He had a bit of a high temperature (antibiotics issued), but otherwise he seemed 'healthy' enough. We would monitor it.
A couple of weeks ago, my wife went off on holiday with the family. I was left 'home alone'. I was left in charge.
Yesterday I managed to coax the Old Bear out, for a slow amble around the forest. The route finishes up at a kiddies park. There was a young couple with three very small children. I never go through the park if there are children there; but this time the Mum called out, "Do you mind if the kids pet your dogs?"
The Cocker made a beeline for ''Mum" and got as much affection and strokes as she could muster. The Old Bear, just lay down and let the kids pet him. The joy he gave those kids was something to behold. "What do yo say to the nice man?"
"Thank you" they all chorused. I was strangely moved by this simple act. I encourage the Old Bear to his feet, and gently led him home.
He did not eat his breakfast yesterday. I managed to tempt him with some meat slices, but I later noticed that they had been regurgitated onto the lawn. I offered him an ice-cube. He loves ice-cubes. He sniffed it and lay his head down onto the grass. Later on that evening, he declined any offer of dinner. My wife is due back this weekend, and it may be that we have to have 'that' conversation. I fear that the time is drawing near.
Last night I half-carried him out into the garden, to have his night time wee. He did not go. I lifted him, and carried him into the house, and gently placed him in his bed.
I missed my wife not being here. I missed not having someone to discuss 'next steps'. As hateful as that final journey to the Vets. is, it is the reality of sharing your life with a dog.
I did not sleep well last night. That is not unusual. I never sleep well. It is, I think, a legacy from my old working life. Last night I did not sleep at all well.
At about 0400 I wander down to check on the dogs, the Cocker gently scratches at the utility door (she always does), and I open it up to be greeted by her boundless energy.
There is silence from the Old Bear. Not unusual. He sleeps deeply now, and is slow to rouse. He was stretched out, and he looked to be a peace.
I checked his eyes - and he was, finally and forever, at peace.
That darling dog had spared me the final trip to the Vets. The kindest dog I have ever known, was kindness to the very end.
I whispered his name into his unhearing ears, and stroked his unfeeling flank.
I did not know what to do. I had no one to tell, and no one to discuss it with. The Cocker was bouncing around and looking to go out. I took her out into the forest where no one could see me weeping, or talking to myself. What do I do?
Somehow I came to a decision - which is why at 0430 this morning, I was digging a heart-shaped hole in my garden.
I went back into the house, and picked up a multi-coloured blanket, that the Old Bear used to love. I laid it out, and gently placed him in it. As I did so, the Cocker appeared at my side, and said her 'Farewells' to her best mate. It fair broke me.
So there it is. Hateful day. I am left with the memories of a wonderful dog; who I hope enjoyed his life with us.
I am also left with that dreadful thing, an empty collar.
My wife is heading home today. I am due to pick her up (around midnight) at the local train station.
So if, on a train platform tonight, you see an elderly couple embracing and weeping, you may understand why that is.
"Goodbye Old Bear - You were loved".
I had held him in my hand (literally in the palm of my hand) nearly 13 years ago, and decided he was coming home with me. He had a ridiculous patch on his right rump, and it just made me smile. He was going home with me.
Fo the next decade and a bit, he allowed us to share his life with him. He was a joy. He was kind, sensitive and an utter joy. He seemed to have a sense of humour. A daft statement to make about a dog, but he made me laugh, and he seemed to know he made me laugh.
He was not the best dog on the Shoot, but then neither am I the best Keeper - but he enjoyed his days on the pheasants.
When we took on a young Cocker (almost three year ago now), the Old Bear was so very gentle with her. The Cocker Bitch ruled the house, and the Old Bear loved her.
This year the Old Bear had started to slow down. He no longer had the appetite for those long walks, we all used to cherish. A quick scoot over the road into the forest was enough for him. I would drop him back home, and then go out on a Yomp with the Cocker. He always managed to look forlorn as I did so, but it was all getting a wee bit much for him. I would shamelessly bribe him with a 'chew stick', as I dashed out of the door again with the Cocker. It was a fair bargain, and he knew it.
In the last month or so, his back legs had begun to weaken. A sure sign that things are perhaps coming to the end. He started to go off his food (unlike any Spaniel), and he had a trip out to the Vets about a month ago. He had a bit of a high temperature (antibiotics issued), but otherwise he seemed 'healthy' enough. We would monitor it.
A couple of weeks ago, my wife went off on holiday with the family. I was left 'home alone'. I was left in charge.
Yesterday I managed to coax the Old Bear out, for a slow amble around the forest. The route finishes up at a kiddies park. There was a young couple with three very small children. I never go through the park if there are children there; but this time the Mum called out, "Do you mind if the kids pet your dogs?"
The Cocker made a beeline for ''Mum" and got as much affection and strokes as she could muster. The Old Bear, just lay down and let the kids pet him. The joy he gave those kids was something to behold. "What do yo say to the nice man?"
"Thank you" they all chorused. I was strangely moved by this simple act. I encourage the Old Bear to his feet, and gently led him home.
He did not eat his breakfast yesterday. I managed to tempt him with some meat slices, but I later noticed that they had been regurgitated onto the lawn. I offered him an ice-cube. He loves ice-cubes. He sniffed it and lay his head down onto the grass. Later on that evening, he declined any offer of dinner. My wife is due back this weekend, and it may be that we have to have 'that' conversation. I fear that the time is drawing near.
Last night I half-carried him out into the garden, to have his night time wee. He did not go. I lifted him, and carried him into the house, and gently placed him in his bed.
I missed my wife not being here. I missed not having someone to discuss 'next steps'. As hateful as that final journey to the Vets. is, it is the reality of sharing your life with a dog.
I did not sleep well last night. That is not unusual. I never sleep well. It is, I think, a legacy from my old working life. Last night I did not sleep at all well.
At about 0400 I wander down to check on the dogs, the Cocker gently scratches at the utility door (she always does), and I open it up to be greeted by her boundless energy.
There is silence from the Old Bear. Not unusual. He sleeps deeply now, and is slow to rouse. He was stretched out, and he looked to be a peace.
I checked his eyes - and he was, finally and forever, at peace.
That darling dog had spared me the final trip to the Vets. The kindest dog I have ever known, was kindness to the very end.
I whispered his name into his unhearing ears, and stroked his unfeeling flank.
I did not know what to do. I had no one to tell, and no one to discuss it with. The Cocker was bouncing around and looking to go out. I took her out into the forest where no one could see me weeping, or talking to myself. What do I do?
Somehow I came to a decision - which is why at 0430 this morning, I was digging a heart-shaped hole in my garden.
I went back into the house, and picked up a multi-coloured blanket, that the Old Bear used to love. I laid it out, and gently placed him in it. As I did so, the Cocker appeared at my side, and said her 'Farewells' to her best mate. It fair broke me.
So there it is. Hateful day. I am left with the memories of a wonderful dog; who I hope enjoyed his life with us.
I am also left with that dreadful thing, an empty collar.
My wife is heading home today. I am due to pick her up (around midnight) at the local train station.
So if, on a train platform tonight, you see an elderly couple embracing and weeping, you may understand why that is.
"Goodbye Old Bear - You were loved".
.
