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A Note From Scout

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Never understood how guys could be with their dogs.  Until i had to put our first down as a family. I cried like a woman.

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5 minutes ago, CatfishKev said:

Never understood how guys could be with their dogs.  Until i had to put our first down as a family. I cried like a woman.

I thought you always cried? 😉 

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Have a tough time reading about letting go of an old dog.  Does not matter whose it is.  Takes me directly to the ache of putting and old friend down.

Lily our lab made it to 14.5 years, gave us everything she had.  She is a wonderful memory.

 

 

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Just now, zackcarp said:

I thought you always cried?

I thought I was pretty clear that it was only after sex.  Rape included.

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This is the the subject of Scout's note. Posted by Mike on FB, as well.

WITH HER NOSE TO THE WIND, AND HER TAIL HELD HIGH...

Bella the Wonderdog set out on her last long retrieve today. A rapidly developing, inoperable tumor in her jaw and throat would have led to a short, painful future. We decided to bear the pain ourselves, and sent her on that last retrieve.

We are heartbroken.

Image may contain: sky, cloud, plant, outdoor and nature

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This was Bella's last post on FB:

BELLA HERE...

So here I am with my sidekick Streak. You know how superheroes have names like Flash or Raven or Hulk? Well, Scout is “Streak” and my name is “Stealth.”

Stealth because I’ve always been stealthy - sneaking up on rooster pheasants while hunting with dad, or hanging back real good like when I saw dad trying to photograph a critter. And I used to cougar him — stalking him ever—-so—-slowly as I crept up in play.

Now I use my super stealth powers to please myself. Like tonight. We were all out for a walk. Dad saw some bird. While he was busy, I crept away. There was green grass to eat, and fresh deer droppings, and I let my nose lead me wherever.

I may be old, but I can still vanish in a hurry! That’s when dad gets worried. He couldn’t find me and got a bit scared, but I was fine. And having a good time.

That’s when Streak appeared. See, dad has taught Scout to track me when he says “find Bella” (my name is Stealth!). And so she does. She comes streaking in, and lets me know dad is worried. So I follow her back (in a sort of in-my-own-time fashion). Then dad is happy and he doesn’t even yell at me. He just gives me a big hug and sighs.

So this is a photo of Stealth (the good looking dog) and Streak after our adventures.

Dad thinks we’re both super!

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16 minutes ago, CatfishKev said:

Never understood how guys could be with their dogs.  Until i had to put our first down as a family. I cried like a woman.

I wasnt in the room when my first old boy was put down. Had him since college.  Then wife said she wasn't letting me chicken out the second time. Said as his daddy I needed to be there. I hated it,  but appreciated the fact she made me be there. 

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Just put down our boxer,  Indy this last Friday. 10 years old. So empty inside

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3 minutes ago, firstcoueswas80 said:

I wasnt in the room when my first old boy was put down. Had him since college.  Then wife said she wasn't letting me chicken out the second time. Said as his daddy I needed to be there. I hated it,  but appreciated the fact she made me be there. 

I was just the opposite. After the deal with Ginger, no way was I going through it again. We simply left Hershey at the Humane Society.

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This was my “first dog”. He was 7 when I met his mother, who is now my wife. He immediately became my best friend. He got lymphoma cancer, stopped eating, and developed incontinence within a couple days. The day we put him down was the hardest day of my adult life. I miss him everyday. 

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I posted this in 2011 when Sasha died. Note the sentence in bold type. It was written before we met Hershey.

**************************************************************

I thought I was pretty tough in situations like this, but Weds. was a really rough day for me. That's why my initial message was short and to the point.

When I sat on the couch to watch TV Tues. night, Sasha came running with her Kong toy, as she often did. She'd bring it to me and then back off about 6-8 ft. so I could throw it for her to catch in mid-air. She kept at it until I told her "no more." When I did that, she laid down on the floor next to me, between the couch and the coffee table. Her Kong was nestled between her front paws next to her nose.

That was the last time I saw her alive. I eventually fell asleep on the couch where I spent the night.

Weds. morning, I woke up about 4:15, turned on the kitchen light and made coffee, etc., etc. Usually as soon as I get up, Sasha would be at my heels. I was awake for about two hours when I finally realized I hadn't seen her. I began looking. She wasn't in any of her usual haunts. First place I checked was the couch in the front living room where she often sleeps; it's the only piece of furniture in the entire house she was allowed access to. The couch was empty. I then started checking all the other empty, dark rooms by calling her name from the doorways. When she didn't come to my calls, I went out back and called for her from the patio. Nothing.

By now, it was about time for my wife to get up, so I opened the bedroom door and turned on the light to see if Sasha might have been closed in there when Ellen had gone to bed. Sasha wasn't there either. So I asked my wife if she had maybe opened the front door after I fell asleep. Although I knew Sasha wouldn't go anywhere, I thought perhaps she had been isolated to the front patio. But the few times that has happened, she barked continuously until one of us let her into the house again. But Ellen hadn't been out front at all since she got home from work at 5:30.

I decided to check each room again. I turned on the light in the spare front bedroom -- one Sasha rarely went into unless Ellen or I were in there for something. I could see her nose sticking out on the far side of one of the beds in there. I walked over, sat on the other bed and could tell she wasn't breathing even before I reached down to touch her.

My wife walked in right behind me, and all I could say was "She's dead."

Ellen said, "Oh no."

By then, I was already in tears. Ellen joined me.

It was really quiet and sad here yesterday as I went about the business of doing what I had to do with Sasha's lifeless body. Few words were exchanged at the dinner table last night. This morning isn't much better as I move about the house and see Sasha's crate, toys, bowls and beds still where they were when she died. The Kong is still laying between the couch and table, where she had left it. Her collar now hangs alongside the one that belonged to my German shorthair, Ginger.

At least with Ginger, knowing she was old and had cancer gave me time to realize she would soon be gone. Sure it was hard to take her to the vet and have her in my hands as the injection caused her life to leave her. I still shed some tears, but by then I was ready to handle them. That's been the case with almost all of the pups I've owned over many years. Most have lived to old age.

That's not the case with Sasha's sudden and unexplained death at less than five years old. While I certainly wouldn't want her to have suffered, I would have been happier if we both had several more years to enjoy each other's company. And if dogs could talk, I bet she would have said the same thing.

As I said after Ginger died, I'll likely never get another pup. If I ever decide to make such a mistake, though, it would be quite difficult to find another with Sasha's temperament and personality.

The sadness will last a long time, but after a few days, we'll get over the loss somewhat and move on as we have in past situations such as this.

Anyway...I really appreciate the sentiments from everyone. Thank you all.

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20 minutes ago, Outdoor Writer said:

I was just the opposite. After the deal with Ginger, no way was I going through it again. We simply left Hershey at the Humane Society.

I couldn't do that to Charlie. Truth be told, i felt bad for not being there with Ojos at the end. 

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6 months after our dog died we decided to get another puppy. I felt guilty about “replacing” a dog but it was the best thing I ever did. The new dog helped me move on. I know one day he will pass, and it will be even harder than the last dog. He’s 7 months younger than our daughter, and they are best friends. 

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I’ve done it myself with every dog thus far. I even have a 22mag that’s only put dogs out of their misery. I’m not sure I can do it anymore though. Had to shoot one a few months ago and I’m still not over it. This post didn’t help but I enjoyed reading the story.

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