Bugsy is gone

We lost another one of our old dogs.  It wasn’t unexpected in some ways; Bugsy was the dog whose soul mate Hazel died last month.  He had never been happy since she was gone.  He was bladder incontinent but still was able to go out to poop.  Before his friend Hazel died he waited for her to finish what she wanted of her special chicken soup then he got to finish the bowl.  I wanted to quit making the chicken soup but Steve kept making it for Bugsy and Sarah, our old dog in the barn.  We spoiled him in other ways, trying to make him happy again, but he still searched for Hazel and seemed sad. 

Bugsy had been eating pretty well and he had taken to following me around in place of Hazel.  He loved to lay at my feet while I was in here in my office typing.   He has never walked well- even when younger.  He was dropped off at our place 15 years ago with rickets so bad he was bowlegged.  His brother Mugsy was dropped off at the same time and my sister took him.  He died 2 years ago.  They had been terribly mistreated, with cigarette burns and other scars and Mugsy’s jaw had been broken and healed.  They were only about 6 weeks old then.  But both had pretty good lives with us and with my sister.

We had noticed early last week that Bugsy wasn’t eating well.  Then Thursday I had to be gone most of the day at doctor’s appointments and Steve went with me.  When we got home we saw that Bugsy was in the same spot he was in when we left- a bed in the living room.  (We have dog beds throughout the house.)   A little later I tried to get him up and he seemed too weak to stand.  I changed his bed because it was wet and told Steve we would take him to the vet Friday to be put down.

On Friday however Bugsy was up and though he wouldn’t eat he drank well and followed me to the office.  I decided to wait and see what would happen and didn’t make the vet appt.  By late Friday evening I regretted that as he began whimpering and shaking, a sign he was in pain.  I fixed him a nice soft bed and sat by him all night; the only thing that soothed him was me stroking him. 

The closest emergency vet open at night is 50 miles away.  Every time I moved him to change his bed he cried in pain.  Since he was still a heavy dog for me to carry, I wouldn’t have been able to get him in a car easily and I knew he would be hurt even more.  He never liked cars either.  So all night I was up with him, stroking and talking to him, and giving him water from a syringe until he passed at 7 am.  It was a horrible night.  Steve buried him next to Hazel.  I warned the other dogs that if they quit eating they will go right to the vet. ( There's a picture of Bugsy in the Nov 20 blog entry.)

If there is a God that accepts dogs in heaven Bugsy is happy again, following his love Hazel around.  We will all be together again soon.