Pudgie the Shih Tzu was loved, and he was worth every penny
The little dog was with us for 16 years, and since we had him put down on a cold, rainy morning a few days ago, the house feels too empty and quiet for all of us.
This was the great Pudgie, whose exploits were occasionally chronicled in this space, especially to illustrate the absurd lengths to which most of us go to keep our pets happy.
In recent months, I wrote that he was hanging on just to run up staggering vet bills and eat gourmet dog food and drive me to the poorhouse, but that was just shtick for the column.
The truth was, everyone in the family loved the little guy, and I would have happily pulled out the VISA card every time he sneezed or eyed a can of top-shelf chow if it gave him more time on this Earth.
Sixteen years is a pretty good run for a dog, but the last couple of months had been rough on Pudgie.
He started having seizures, most of them characterized by violent head-shaking.
Phenobarbital was prescribed, but the medicine made him groggy. He had trouble walking and climbing stairs.
Then the seizures worsened, and the vet said the cause could be a brain tumor. Treatment options were limited - and painful for the dog.
Eventually, my wife and I made the decision to put the dog down.
This, of course, essentially involves a pet owner playing God, and I am about the furthest thing from God you will ever see. But even a mope like me can see when a dog is suffering and has lost the spark of life.
If you've never had to put a dog to sleep, you're lucky, because it's a surreal and heartbreaking experience.
Right up until the procedure, you walk the dog and feed him and talk to him like it's just another day.
Then you put him in the car and drive to the animal hospital with tears in your eyes as the rest of the world goes off to work, sipping their lattes, blasting their radios and shouting at the fools who cut them off in traffic.
Fortunately, the people who run Timonium Animal Hospital are total professionals and wonderfully caring, which helped when my wife and I showed up as emotional wrecks with an old, sick dog in tow.
The whole thing didn't take long.
In a small examining room, Dr. Christine Gernhart injected Pudgie with a sedative while my wife held him. Then I held him for a few minutes as he went limp and put his head down. Finally, it was time to say goodbye.
