Goodbye Gus

I'm going to keep this one short and sweet because, otherwise, it'll turn into a big sob-fest.

I had to say goodbye to my big pal, Gus, my rescue Great Dane, on Thursday, May 5.  He was the best pal a girl could ask for--gentle, loyal, and the best cuddler ever.  He got really old really fast--this last year he rapidly went downhill.

I did everything possible (and within reason) to manage his pain and keep him the healthiest and happiest he could be.  From his daily dogwalks to massage therapy and acupuncture, hydrotherapy and ultrasound/laser therapy at Back on Track; this all coupled with his regime of 10+ pills/day.  The last week, he just couldn't get up very well and I could tell his pain was increasing and, furthermore, his zest for life ebbed away.

I know we could have continued on like that, slowly deteriorating, laying in his own urine after he wet the bed at night to sitting in his excrement because he couldn't hold himself up.  It wasn't how I wanted to remember my Gus and I have to believe it's not how he, the noblest dog ever, would want to go out.  Regardless, I made the heart-wrenching call to have him put to sleep last week and my life has a massive, 180-lb. hole in it.

My wonderful vet and her assistant came to our house bearing gifts: Gus had already gotten a delicious steak the night prior and a bacon cheeseburger, but Dr. Bussman and Melissa brought a chocolate fondant cupcake, cheesy rice, and sausage to keep Gusto happy while they administered the shots.  Actually, it's kind of strange, but Gus didn't bark at either of them when they came in and that never happens.  Maybe he knew....

I don't want to get graphic, but it was a wonderful death.  Gus was calm and peaceful and surrounded by people who loved him (my dad came down).  I held his head and talked to him the entire time and he was cuddled under his favorite blanket.  They administered a "relaxation" shot which, after about 15 minutes, you could tell that Gus was relaxed, calm, and happy.  On my call, they administered, via a catheter in his leg, the shot that stopped his heart.  He gave three sighs and quickly and peacefully slipped away.

Mt. Tabor Vet Clinic had coordinated everything, so about 15 minutes after Gus died (which gave me, dad, and Ruby enough time for our final goodbyes/tears), the cremation people (Dignified Pet Services) came to pick up my big guy.  We loaded him on a human-sized stretcher and they took him away.  I picked up his ashes on Wednesday and don't know what I'm going to do with them yet, but I know it will be something special....probably bury some of them in his favorite places, I guess.

I think of him every night and miss so many things about him, but I know it was the right decision.  I'm a better person for having him in my life.  I love you, Gus; thank you for picking me all those years ago.