Canon Shooter
Diamond Member
- Jan 7, 2020
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We recently had to put down Patches. She was 15 and her quality of life, despite damn near having her own wing in the house, wasn't the greatest.
Many years ago, when I was still in San Diego, my wife dropped my then 7 year old daughter off at the house and ran back out to the store. When my daughter came in I asked her "Where'd Mom go?"
"She dropped me off so I could ask you if we can get a puppy!"
I was stuck. I didn't necessarily want to get a dog right then, but there'd be no way to avoid being the big meanie of a Daddy if I said "no". We had talked about it and I was open to the idea. Of course, I told my daughter "Well, let's go look."
The three of us went to a small, local pet store and came home with what ended up being the best dog I've ever had. My daughter named her Ginger. Ginger was a Great Dane/German Shepherd/Chow mix and, because she was basically a mutt, she was only $40, and that included all of her shots.
We finally had to put her down at age 17, which is a ridiculously old age for a dog of her size (Danes usually live to be about 10 or so, Shepherds and Chows about the same). We attribute her long life to the preservatives in all of the "people food" she ate. That dog loved pizza crusts. At the end, though, she was deaf as a stump and could no longer stand up on her own to go outside. We discussed it as a family and decided the best thing to do was to let her go.
It hurt. It hurt like I didn't know a hurt could hurt. But she was no longer suffering and no longer in pain and, if nothing else, after 17 years of being my family's devoted companion and protector, she deserved that.
This is me with Ginger, out camping in her happy place, Kitchen Creek Falls in the Laguna Mountains in San Diego County...
Many years ago, when I was still in San Diego, my wife dropped my then 7 year old daughter off at the house and ran back out to the store. When my daughter came in I asked her "Where'd Mom go?"
"She dropped me off so I could ask you if we can get a puppy!"
I was stuck. I didn't necessarily want to get a dog right then, but there'd be no way to avoid being the big meanie of a Daddy if I said "no". We had talked about it and I was open to the idea. Of course, I told my daughter "Well, let's go look."
The three of us went to a small, local pet store and came home with what ended up being the best dog I've ever had. My daughter named her Ginger. Ginger was a Great Dane/German Shepherd/Chow mix and, because she was basically a mutt, she was only $40, and that included all of her shots.
We finally had to put her down at age 17, which is a ridiculously old age for a dog of her size (Danes usually live to be about 10 or so, Shepherds and Chows about the same). We attribute her long life to the preservatives in all of the "people food" she ate. That dog loved pizza crusts. At the end, though, she was deaf as a stump and could no longer stand up on her own to go outside. We discussed it as a family and decided the best thing to do was to let her go.
It hurt. It hurt like I didn't know a hurt could hurt. But she was no longer suffering and no longer in pain and, if nothing else, after 17 years of being my family's devoted companion and protector, she deserved that.
This is me with Ginger, out camping in her happy place, Kitchen Creek Falls in the Laguna Mountains in San Diego County...
