A Dog's Life

This past week was a sad one in our house as we went to the vet to put our 15-year-old dog to sleep. Frisbee had been a part of our life for 12 years and was the second of our two dogs.   

When we moved into a house with a large yard, we knew we wanted a dog. Off to the pound we went, coming home with a true pound puppy – a dog that had been born at the shelter, living there for her full eight months.  She was adorable, a black ball of fluff, and old enough to have some manners. Our daughter christened her YoYo. She was our first, but Frisbee wasn’t far behind.

One pet seemed enough, at least to me. The kids and my husband had other thoughts. One day they saw an ad showing a dog at the Oxford pound, aptly named Frisbee. To them, it seemed like fate.

The last thing I said before leaving for work was, “Sure, why don’t you go look at him and let me know what you think.” When I came home, the dog was there. Oh how I wished I said, “Sure, go look” at a red Mercedes convertible – that would have been fun to see sitting in the driveway. Instead we had Frisbee, a lab/pit bull mix and an alpha dog in every way. 

His name was a misnomer. Having been abused as a puppy, he was afraid of anything thrown at him. Although he could jump great heights, catching a Frisbee, or even a ball, was not his idea of playtime fun.

Frisbee's concerns were simple and straightforward: Food, comfort and having things his way.  When he and YoYo wanted to go out, she would always step aside to let him go first. He never disturbed her while she was eating out of her food bowl, but he had the first right of refusal for any food that fell on the floor –and she obeyed that law. And, of course, he always got the most comfortable dog pillow.  Yet, they got along beautifully and were great friends. Frisbee would howl if YoYo went on a walk without him, and we can tell YoYo is missing Frisbee now.

Frisbee seemed to live by the motto “a fool and his food are soon parted.” We were the main sources of his food, and he didn’t like it when we would leave. We quickly learned not to put him in locked spaces. My parents' beautiful wood doors still bear deep claw marks from his desperate attempts to find us and escape the back porch, where we had put him while visiting their home. On vacation, while my husband and I were canoeing, a guy in a speedboat flagged us down to ask if we knew whose dog was swimming in the middle of the lake. It was ours, trying to make sure we didn’t go too far away. He wasn’t the smartest pup – he almost drowned in that lake – but he knew what he wanted. That boundless love is one of the many reasons dogs are such great pets.

We have many wonderful memories of our dog, and I am glad he was a part of our life. I am also grateful we were able to end his life peacefully and with dignity, before the pain and incapacitation became unbearable. If only we could offer the same kindness to humans.