Goodbye…Old Friend

I said goodbye to a good friend yesterday, my dog Gabriel. Gabers was a bi-color (black and white) sheltie. A herding dog which meant that he would run around other animals (read people and especially kids) and try to concentrate them into a cohesive group. When I would watch him do this I often thought of his actions as creating a bait ball, like mackerel in the ocean, and I was glad that Land Sharks were not a real thing (if that joke doesn’t land, refer to vintage 70’s Saturday Night Live).

I can’t ever remember a time in my life when a dog didn’t live in our house, but Gabers was the first dog that was exclusively labeled “my dog”. The reason that happened was when my family went to pick out a new companion (after the passing of the family’s last dog, Luke) my family all gravitated to another of the puppies. My son in particular was captivated by one of the pups and we did adopt him, my son named him Dakota. I though kept coming back to Gabe and in the end, we adopted both dogs. So, for the first time in our lives, we had two dogs, both from the same litter. Where Dakota was outgoing, quick to engage, and generally curious, Gabe was shy and often pensive. The place where Gabers would shine, however, was playing ball. While Dakota would run after the ball, often getting it first or sometimes even taking it from Gabe who would willingly drop the ball and defer to his brother, Dakota would never bring the ball all they way back. But Gabe would. Every time Gabe would bring the ball back to the thrower even if Dakota dropped it, Gabe would rush in and pick it up and bring it back so the game could go on. Gabe would play ball forever if you would continue to throw the ball. Your arm would give out before Gabe stopped bringing the ball back. We played ball right up to the very end for as long as Gabers could.

We lost Dakota almost exactly three years ago to a degenerative neurological disorder. It became harder and harder for him to walk and eventually stand. In the end, he struggled to get up and was very anxious about not being able to. He could not understand that this was a disorder that was beyond anyone’s ability to repair, his nerves just stopped communicating with his brain. It may have been his proprioceptive cells not sending signals or a degenerative process in the spine, but the result was the same, he became unable to stand and was upset about it to the point of agitation. At that point, we knew what the humane thing to do was.

Ironically, or perhaps not, we lost Gabers exactly the same way. It became harder to walk and eventually even to stand. The difference with Gabers was that at no point did he ever appear distraught. Where Dakota was visibly anxious and afraid, Gabers was accepting and calm. In some ways that made the inevitable both easier and harder. If I had any regrets about Dakota, it would be that in the end, he was afraid and that bothers me today and will forever. The only thing that really makes death tragic is if the individual is afraid and I couldn’t take that away from Dakota. We were all there and there was a great deal of crying and sympathy and support, but I couldn’t communicate with him and take away his fear. Since Gabe did not experience any fear that made the end easier. But it was harder because I tell myself maybe I could/should have just kept going. His condition would not have gotten better but maybe it wouldn’t have gotten worse. But it was obvious that the condition was progressive. First, it was just one hind leg, then both, then he began to have difficulty going to the bathroom. But I tell myself he could still eat and drink.

In the end for any of us what is “quality of life?” I tell people in my family that I don’t want to live on a machine or have my mental function so impaired that I cannot recognize my own family. So, if I apply that same reasoning to Gabers then I know that he did not want to live his life without being able to run and play ball! At the very last, he was just so calm and peaceful, it genuinely seemed like he was thanking us for releasing him. He was ready to go.

I am crying so much right now that it is getting difficult to type. But right at the end, my wife told Gabers to go find his brother. If dogs are a part of the afterlife, and I have no reason to believe they are not, then it makes me sad to think that Dakota was there for three years without his brother. But it makes me so happy to think that today they are together again and that Gabers is bringing the ball all the way back.