How do you know when it's time?

That question still plaques me!  Haunts me to this day.  I woke up thinking about it this morning.  The more I look at pictures of Desi the more I question my decision on his final day.  "The Worst Day." Steven King used that phrase in "11.22.63" about an incident involving a man murdering his family.  And there is a part of me that has always questioned if I am that man.  Did I kill my own dog.  I clearly authorized death to occur.  Whether or not I have or had the "right" to make the decision to end my dog's life is STILL a struggle for me.  It's a HUGE decision.  It's THE MOST DIFFICULT DECISION I have EVER made in my life.  I don't ever want to have to make that decision again for another animal or human.


I grew up with a very religious mother and I keep thinking about her views on euthanasia.  I haven't discussed it with her regarding Desi because she can be extremely ignorant, nonsensical and quite frankly insane!  I didn't want her crazy opinions affecting the way I cared for the most precious creature I have ever had in my life for as long as I had him in my life.  I wanted my judgment to be as clear of guilt and shame as it could be which is no easy task for a person in my position.  I wanted my judgment to be clear for Desi.


When I look at pictures of Desi even one month or a week prior to his death, they don't actually tell the full story.  I took him as often as I could at his best and at his cutest.  I didn't take shots of him when he struggled to get up continually and simply could not.  The strength in his hind legs was gone.


I didn't take pictures of how picky he got with his food and the fact that he wouldn't eat unless I doctored his food with some new taste like a cooked egg.  He wouldn't eat any treats except the soft Pupperoni's and then would eat as much of them as I gave him only to puke it all up.   I didn't take a picture of the fact that he couldn't and wouldn't climb his doggie stairs anymore.  That he didn't want to lay on my lap anymore.  That he used objects to hold his head up.  That I had to hand feed him because he no longer had the strength to stand in front of his doggie bowls long enough to enjoy a meal.  If dogs even enjoy meals.


The downward spiral and decline in health had been occurring since he had his eye removed in 2009.  After that, his vision was so bad he wasn't able to play fetch the ball anymore.  That had been his ABSOLUTE favorite thing to do.  Fetching and hiking.  Desi loved both.  He also liked to chill out but was really a great outdoor dog.  That's where he came to life.


After his eye surgery, he wasn't able to, couldn't or just plain wouldn't bark anymore.  I didn't realize it at first and then one day it dawned on me that he had stopped barking completely.


The only time he came alive was when I took him on walks.  It was like all of his youth and vitality came back because of the air, the smells, the earth beneath his feet.  It was actually an amazing transformation to see.  It was a phenomenal change that occurred that kept making me ask:


"How do you know when it's the right time?"


Most people would say to me "You'll know".


Or they would say "You have to listen to him".


Well the truth is the answer was not that simple.  I didn't ever just KNOW and Desi certainly wasn't in a position to tell me.  And what Desi was telling me was that he wanted to go on in spite of everything because that was the kind of dog he was.  He was a Wounded Warrior dog.  He would have stuck it out as long as I allowed.


The answer is "You don't ever really know when it's time."


You make the best decision you can based on your specific knowledge of your specific pet and what you know in your heart is the best thing for your beloved companion. 


Through it all I kept telling myself that I WOULD NEVER ALLOW HIM TO SUFFER.  That was where I was going to draw the line.  If he was suffering I would know it was time.  But the suffering came and went and almost every time I took him outside he was in love with life and living again!  He simply came to life.


On "The Worst Day" he was out of his mind with agitation and confusion.  He didn't know what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go.  He wouldn't sit in my lap but he wouldn't lay on the pillow.  He wouldn't want to stay in one place but he couldn't get comfortable and kept walking to find something, anything to bring him relief.


That last moment was the absolute worst.  Even before that last moment when they brought him back with the  IV PIC in his right leg and I had to say goodbye I could see there was more confusion in his demeanor than acceptance or understanding that this was just another normal visit at the Vet.  I actually felt guilty and continue to feel guilty about all the grieving I did in front of him.  I couldn't help myself but also kept thinking I wonder if he knows what I'm doing here.  I wonder if he feels betrayed.


The rational, grounded intelligent part of me knows that dogs do not feel or perceive betrayal as an emotion.  Or, if they do, certainly not in the way human beings feel and perceive it.  Desi has always trusted himself in my care.  And I have ALWAYS done the ABSOLUTE BEST JOB when it came to caring for him.  I WENT ABOVE AND BEYOND AND DESI ALWAYS KNEW THAT.  He could always sense my co-dependency.  I'm sure of it.  He was confident in the fact that he had me wrapped around his little paws and then some.  He was spoiled and knew it.  And he felt he deserved it.


It's me that keeps doing the questioning in retrospect.  When I see the cutest little picture of him like the one below it's hard not to question myself.  It's hard not to remember how bad his ability to enjoy life had gotten by "The Worst Day".  It's hard not to want to have him back so that we could enjoy all the good, fun and beautiful times we had together.  It's hard NOT to miss him beyond belief, beyond words and in the very pit of my heart and soul and entire being.


Desi was quite simply the Best:

Stuck in the Cracks?