About nine months ago or so, my wife found a dog that was waiting to die at a shelter. He was scheduled to be put down that day, because he was old, sick and wasn’t expected to live more than another two months anyway. She felt sorry for him and took him home, so his last few months of life could be spent somewhere comfortable, where he could have good food and companionship. It was obvious the dog had been mistreated and probably neglected in the past. He had weird habits. At night he wound run to the bathroom and hide behind the toilet. He stayed under the bed most of the time and only came out to eat.
Gummy Bear (we called him that because he had no teeth left) never stopped being weird, but he bulked up and became fairly healthy. He was still mostly blind and bumped into things regularly but his walking improved. He was with us for about nine months and then, just as I was coming home form a trip to Israel, he started having issues. When I got home, my wife was at work and Gummy Bear was under the bed, as usual. Before I’d even taken my coat off, I smelled urine and saw a puddle edging out from under the bed. He peed and laid down in it. I put him in the tub and cleaned everything up and then took him out for a walk. The next few days we woke up to the smell of urine coming from under the bed and then he started crapping blood both inside and outside the apartment.
Gummy Bear had tumors and maybe cancer and I guess old age finally caught up with him. So, we took him to animal control to have him put down today.
So long, pal. I guess I’ll just have to walk myself in the morning and evenings now.
Bradley Farless 