On April 11th, 2007, I lost my “Wolfie”. He was 8 years old, born with hydrophalus, and almost blind. My whole life, routine was wrapped around Wolfie. He went into a seizure and I thought he’d come out of it, just like always. The next day, he still was in the aftermath and worsening. He couldn’t eat or drink. I took him to his vet. When I left him, he could still recognize me. When I went back at 5pm, I walked in thinking I would be taking my beloved pet home, with just a change in medication. He was unresponsive, sedated. The vet took him home with him. The following day, still no response. As I held him for the last time talking to him directly in his ear-there was a change in the sound of his breathing. I have to believe, somewhere in the depths of his mind, he still recognized my voice. Then the euthanasia and it was over.
I am in shock, full of “Why didn’t I…”, tears at home, tears at work, tears at the sight of his dog house, the “trigger” sound of shutting the gate to his pen; it was always the last thing I did before leaving for work with the feeling he’s safe and secure until I get back. Wolfie was 90% blind and I was his seeing-eye person, always walking next to me with his fur brushing my leg to guide him., my constant companion. My day revolved around him, his meds, his care. My mind still tells me to look for him before taking a step, my heart says “no, he’s gone”.
I brought him home and buried him, by myself.
I don’t think anyone knows how bonded we were to each other. The vet said how fortunate Wolfie was to have me to care for him…..no, I was the fortunate one, to know him and to experience such love, but oh the pain
of losing such a love.
Love, friendship, pure of heart,
| Wolfie |
| 11, Apr 2007 |
| Donna |