I Lost My Best Friend

Fudge was a happy dog. He loved to spin and jump and be just a little naughty. Mostly he loved attention and he got it.

He came to us as a mate for Samba and did a fine job in producing nine puppies for me to spoil.

 He was a star pupil in his obedience class and went on to earn a title in Rally.

He wore silly clothes and hats without complaint.

 He loved water and delighted in getting himself and us soaked whenever possible.

He loved his pack mates and was especially tender with an aging Morgan.

He also took on the job of training the new puppies.

Mostly, he stayed by my side wherever I was and no matter what I was doing. He slept under the desk when I was on the computer. He sat beside me as I read or knit on the sofa and he slept next to my side of the bed.

The stroke he suffered three years ago left him with spinal damage and in the last few years he's struggled with  increasingly weak lower back and rear legs. Supplements and pain meds helped but the damage grew worse as time went on. We tried to help by putting up gates to keep him from falling down stairs and putting towels on the front steps during bad weather to prevent slipping.

 During the worst times I had a harness for his hips so I could give him some extra help but he wanted to do it himself. It took him a lot of effort and extra time to negotiate the six steps to the porch, but he did it several times a day.

Around Thanksgiving we noticed that he was growing weaker and it was too difficult for him to walk to the garage to eat with the other dogs, so we started feeding him in the living room by himself. He still had a good appetite. We knew that our time together was limited.

Lately Fudge has been sleeping more and getting up or down he would groan, so we knew it was painful. Still he wanted to be part of the group and we tried to accommodate him.

On Friday Fudge had a really good day. He walked to the garage to eat with his pack. Then he climbed the front steps with little effort. He spent the day playing with his toys and rolling on his back, kicking his legs in the air. In the evening he climbed onto the couch to sit with me as I knit.

We went to bed at our usual time but during the night it was as if someone threw a switch. When we got up Fudge couldn't get up by himself. When I helped him up, he couldn't stand alone, he had to lean on us. We managed to get him outside but he couldn't begin to climb the steps. He recognized me but he was  disoriented. He didn't remember how to eat and any food I gave him dribbled out of his mouth. Fudge wasn't there anymore, just a confused old dog in Fudge's body.

I called Dr B and he met us at the clinic so we could all say goodbye together. I sure hope there's an endless supply of sprinkles at the Rainbow Bridge because my sweet Fudge boy loves them.

 Goodbye my sweet Fudgie dog. I will love you forever.