The Rainbow Bridge: Grieving the Loss of a Beloved Pet

Possibly the only thing harder than the death of a beloved pet, in this case a 15, almost 16 year old dog, is having to make the end of life decision. The dreaded decision of whether to give the pet more time in hopes of their getting better, or euthanasia, otherwise known as "putting the pet down".

For ten days or so, from July 10, 2011 to this past thursday, July 21, I had to face just such a decision. When my wife's sister died on June 28, I headed to her hometown of Bluffton, Ohio the following day to be with my wife for the funeral which was on July 2.

Before leaving, I had made arrangements with my neighbors to feed and water Jewel, our almost 16 year old female German Shepherd mix and her playmate Lucy, a Jack Russell terrier mix about four years of age. The odd duo, both wonderful dogs, have a doggie door into our laundry room to take shelter in case of storms and to get out of the broiling Arkansas sun.

We had planned a vacation to visit my sister in law in mid July before she became ill and then visit Kentucky, the state my wife hails from later. A couple of days after the funeral, we needed a few days to decompress before making the 12 hour or so drive back to our home in Arkansas.

After driving all day on saturday July 9, we arrived home late that night and I immediately checked on the doggies. Lucy seemed fine, but there was something different about JuJu, as we called Jewel. She seemed indifferent to our return after seeming fine before we left. My wife thought maybe Jewel was pouting because we had been gone, as some dogs do.

Having adopted Jewel from the local Humane Society in late 1996, over six years before I met my wife, I had never known JuJu to behave like a drama queen. She was a dog with such a sweet disposition even as she could seem fierce to potential intruders, Jewel was the least high maintenance dog I had ever been around.

I had also never known my Jewel of the Nile to not eat. Ever since December 23, 1996, the day I brought her into my home as a companion to Kramer, an almost one year old Siberian Husky/Malamute mix, Jewel had always had a hearty appetite.

On Sunday July 10, I checked on Jewel early in the morning and put her food in the usual place. She seemed completely disinterested in eating. Thinking it was the heat, it was 90-100 degrees regularly while we were away, I put JuJu's dog bed in a cool corner of the house and invited her in, putting her food dish nearby.

After church, Jewel's food still hadn't been touched. I was able to get her to eat part of my Subway meatball sandwich, I know, a no-no, but I was concerned as she looked gaunt. I had called my neighbor while we were gone and he said she wasn't eating much.

In the days that followed, we still could not get my "good ol' girl", as I often called Jewel, to eat. The poor girl just got more and more gaunt looking. She had always drank a lot of water, now even her favorite beverage didn't seem to interest her.

Concerned, I looked up signs of a dying dog, remembering some of the movie Marley and Me. Sure enough, all of the signs were there, at least to a degree. I made up my mind to take JuJu to the vet by the following Friday. I didn't really think there was anything the vet could do, but euthanasia being final, I wanted to be certain.

Something I saw on wednesday night changed my mind, moving up the deadline a day. My son had put Jewel on the patio earlier. When I went to check on her, flies were buzzing all around her rapidly deteriorating body.

This is not going to happen to any dog of mine I thought, let alone one who had given almost 15 years of faithful service. Picking up her nearly limp body, I called work to tell them I wouldn't be coming in the next day after putting Jewel back in the laundry room on her doggy bed.

Jewel was going to be made as comfortable as possible until the next day. The laundry room was a little warm, but Jewel had caught a cold when in the house earlier and one of her nostrils was stopped up.

The next day, I wrestled with the difficult decision, one of the most gut-wrenching decisions of my 55 years. I knew if I took Jewel to the vet it would probably be the last trip she would ever make, but I could not let her suffer any more than she had the past 2-3 days.

Carrying her once strong body to my truck was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do even though this was the lightest Jewel had ever been since I brought her to my home on Dec. 23, 1996 from the local Humane Society.

I took Jewel and my son Joey by our former home where we lived until last February and where JuJu spent most of her life. Never looking up from the floorboard of the passenger side at my son's feet lying on her dog bed, Jewel looked sad as she had for days.

I don't recall the last time I had seen Jewel's trademark smile. My wife told me she had said her goodbyes to Jewel before leaving for work. All of us knew it was time, especially Jewel herself.

I carried Jewel into the back room of the vet's office and set her on a special table. After an examination of a few minutes, I heard the words that I had feared the most. "She has kidney failure. I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do to make it better. The most humane thing would be to put her down, otherwise she would die a horrible, painful death."

After informing me of the details, I signed a consent form provided by the vet. There was no decision to be made. I could not let Jewel or any dog waste away in such a painful fashion. The only decision to be made was whether I and my son were to be present. I brought Jewel home from the Humane Society, just a very short distance from the vetrinary clinic. I needed to be there and left it up to my 15 year old son whether he followed suit.

In the circle of life, my Jewel had come full circle from where we started our journey together all those years ago. Jewel's lifetime had seen the explosion of technology since the 90s days of Seinfeld when I didn't even know how to turn a computer on, the Lewinsky scandal, the Y2K hoax, 9/11, the invasion of Iraq, most of the Brett Favre era, my broken engagement, my marriage in 2004, the adoption of our son and other developments too numerous to mention.

Jewel handled all this and her own hip dysplasia a few years ago, her loss of several teeth in her older years and the death of her companion of over 11 years, Kramer in 2008. After KMan died in March 2008, I wouldn't have bet a dollar Jewel would make it to 2009, let alone 2011. I re-dedicated myself to putting her on a diet and giving her glucosomine for her arthritis and Jewel responded like a champion.

While Jewel was a mixed breed, we never did figure out what the other breed was besides German Shepherd, I wouldn't have traded her for all the AKC show dogs in the world. Whoever put JuJu up for adoption will never know what they missed as their loss was my gain. In fact, some of my fondest memories of Jewel came late in her life.

I'll never forget when JuJu saw our new home for the first time last February. I had Joey riding in the back of my pickup holding her. As we pulled into the driveway, Jewel rose to her feet with a big smile and wagging tail as she looked over her new surroundings.

One day as I opened the chain link gate to our backyard, I saw the huge Jewel peeking out of the dog door with our tiny Jack Russell terrier mix Lucy's head right below hers as they surveyed the yard for the one who dared to enter their domain. Upon seeing it was me, both immediately rushed out to greet me, tails wagging furiously all the while.

It has taken me several days to complete this article with everything going on. The hurt from having to make such a decision has subsided a little more each day, because in my heart I know that the decision was the right one.

I don't claim to know what happens to dogs when they pass from this world, whether they go to heaven or just fade into our memories . I hope to one day see Jewel and Kramer again, however. According to the book of Job 12:7-10, there is hope. Verse 7 says: But ask the animals and they will teach you. Therein lies my hope.