I received a call from mom this morning at 8:05 AM. They had just finished putting him down. The doctor informed them that he had begun to develop a heart murmur (another sign that the disease was spreading- not getting better). She told them that they were giving their dog a gift by not allowing him to suffer or endure any pain. These words from the doctor and the updated medical report made this excrutiating decision make sense. How could you let Hoss suffer or have pain when everything he gave you was joy and happiness?
I feel so connected to Hoss despite the fact that he lived 6 hours away and I saw him only on occasion. I have chosen to list some of the memories that I have of him below. They are all good memories, ones that make me smile (or tear up) when I think of what that dog gave to me. Here are just a few of the many, many memories that I have with "My Puppy":
- Calling in sick to work when Hoss was staying with me and taking him to the George Washington National Forest. He LOVED romping through the woods that day (it beat sitting in the car, although he didn't seem to mind that either). And if my boss is reading this for some reason, I do apologize for lying about being sick. But I have to be honest now, I wouldn't trade that day with him for anything in the world.
- Laying on the couch and calling him up to lay beside me. He would nestle in and take up about 3/4 of the space on the couch. I didn't care. He laid his head on my arm and more than once, was snoring within minutes as I rubbed his belly and front legs. And Hoss could snore with the best of them!
- Finding a picture of me and grandpa after grandpa had died, I started crying. Hoss was having none of that. He knew that this was not normal and knew that he wanted to help. He came up to me, nuzzled in against me, gave me kisses, and looked at me with those big brown eyes of his. Those eyes told everything about him, all the time. And in this moment, those eyes told me- it's OK, please don't cry. It was better than any hour therapy session could have ever been. In that moment, Hoss was my counselor.
- A funny memory- Kari and I kept Hoss this spring when mom and dad went to Florida. On the first night we had him, he was laying on the floor. I guess he needed to get up. Upon getting up, he proceeded to lift his tail in the air and let out some dog gas. We both rolled on the floor. He literally lifted his tail up to fart!
- Watching him be so happy at his Carrollton home- the cabin, or in Hoss terms, the "farm." He loved hiking the trails with "father" and his favorite spot was the creek. He would get in, let the cold water run over him, and drink and drink the cold creek water. He really did love that place. It's only appropriate that mom and dad are burying him there, beside his creek.
- Watching him come home from anywhere and running his "lap" around the house. I couldn't ever figure out if he was doing it just to check everything out or what. My gut tells me now that he was just happy to be "home."
- And the memory that I will now miss the most. His loving and excited greeting upon "brothers" arrival home. Barking, wagging his tail, not even letting me out of the car before he jumped up and started giving kisses. I'll still love going home, but I will miss that welcome more than words can say.
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