I know how you feel Keith, Sympathies mate. There is an old but very true saying, The more I think of my fellow man , The more I love my dog Regards Terry.Quote:
Originally Posted by Keith Tindell
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I know how you feel Keith, Sympathies mate. There is an old but very true saying, The more I think of my fellow man , The more I love my dog Regards Terry.Quote:
Originally Posted by Keith Tindell
Yes Keith the idea of getting into a bottle of is good but make it two then you might decide to get another pet
Know exactly how your feeling keith the last one i had i felt the same and said the same thing as you Never again.But what does one do when a dog chooses you and wont take no for an answer,this happened to me.After losing Blocker two,after about four months walking in to town each morning for the paper two Kelpies pups would run out of this yard on the next block to me
chaseing one another round each morning they would repeat this until one morning the young women who ownd them pulled me up and and after saying how sorry to hear of me losing my dog offered one of the pups, i said no no more for me.Anyway day after day on my morning walk the pups would come out all playfull this one morning one of them took the cuff of my trouser in his jaw and now matter what i did refused to let go.He finnished up in my yard and refused to leave.That was five years ago and we have been walking every morning since for the paper of course. Every day very happy and glad he made that decision to hold on to my cuff.
Keith I am sitting here with a lump in my throat and a very salty taste on my lips. I know exactly how you feel. We brought our cat out from UK over 30 years ago and he is now in a pet cemetry on Melbourne outskirts. We had two more then a white female who spent most of her 15.5 years on medication and dropped dead in may arms one Saturday morning. Her brother lived to 18.7 years. No more we creied, until a much neglected cat decided to come nad live with us and had three kittens in the wood shed. Her original owner was charged by RSPCA with cruelty fined and banned for keeping animals for 5 years,m he dided of a Heroin overdose.
We now have this cat, with athrhitis and needing medication, with two of her kids. They have to go to ther kennels when we go on holliday and it is a heart breaker puttiung them there. At times they can cost a fortune, $400 for two blood tests, but would I get rid of them........... chop my right arm off first.
Animals make us responsible people, a house without a pet is not a home.
two year ago I lost my dog Brandy. She was the funny looking dog I ever saw.
She had the big C in a few places. The Vet phoned me and told me that she was still under and what should he do. I said we have no choice. She would have lived for a month or so , but in pain. No way would I let that happen. 3 months without her was hell, It was that bad my young lass ( who lives in another town) came with this young Choc lab. She saYS I'm fed up dad looking so sad, so I have got him this. The dogs lower jaw is smaller than top. So what ! He is my buddy , and I don.t dare go out without him. When we come in he gets my slippers. Want out , he gets my shoes. I still think of my old Brandy, but As was said before, " there is hundreds of sad dogs looking for lovely homes.
So think of it
Ron the batcave
Hello Keith,
I would like to add my commiserations to those of other dog-loving shipmates who have posted their support and know well , the sadness you are feeling right now. In time the pain goes, but the memories stay with you forever.
In 1970 I became the proud and fortunate owner of 'JOSH', a two year old Labrador Retreiver who (the breeder later took pains to explain) was yellow and not golden as the general public would have it. Josh came into my possession through a friend who lived opposite a breeder of Labs who was also a keen exhibitor at various dog shows, both in N.S.W. and interstate. It transpired that some years before, from Sherbourne in Dorset, England, the breeder had imported a labrador of great pedigree. As the result of one of his many organised couplings, this dog sired (from the same litter) two male dogs named Jason and Joshua (Josh). Both grew to be magnificent looking examples of the breed. At two years of age, Jason, had already performed well at several dog shows' and, seemingly, it was thought that, like his sire, he would go on to become a champion at major shows throughout the country (he did). However,Joshua, who like his brother possessed a broad noble head, wide chest and perfect 'otter' tail, was considered too short in the leg (by less than inch would you believe) to compete successfully at major events, although still capable of winning local shows. Due to Joshua's limited potential as a show dog, the breeder was seeking to find a suitable owner. He was prepared to sell Josh, with his pedigree papers and membership of the Kennel Club for a ridiculously small fee, however, as part of the bargain he wanted my wife, two children and I, to go to his home for Sunday afternoon tea. Well, we attended as requested and were delighted to discover that 'Josh' was fully trained and capable of many other tricks besides. The breeder openly admitted that his reason for wishing to see all the family was to satisfy his wish that 'Josh' was going to the 'right' people. I explained to him that I had no interest in showing 'Josh', but was looking for a dog, not just as a pet but as an important member of my family. Hoping my remarks would help I was relieved to learn that we had passed muster. So it was that this wonderful dog became a part of our lives for the next 12 years, greatly loved by us all.
Towards the end of his life he suffered with rheumatism and it began to effect his mobility. Eventually, it became very bad and countless visits to the 'vet' could no longer alleviate the pain he was suffering. I knew that the kind thing to do, the 'right' thing to do, would be to have him put down, but, selfishly, I just couldn't bear the thought of him not being there anymore.
It was a few days after Christmas, 1982, when no longer prepared to watch him suffer, my wife, Pauline, arranged for the local 'vet' to take 'Josh' and put him out of his misery. I was at work when she rang to tell me what she had done. At first I was stunned and angry that she had deprived me of the chance to say goodbye to my dog. Later, I realised that my wife had done the right thing and that I should be thanking her for having the courage to do what I couldn't. As arranged with the 'vet', I collected Josh's body on my way home from work. He had been placed in a plastic bag and when I put him into the boot, I noticed a small split in the bag through which his fur was sticking out. Choked, I got into the car and drove the rest of the way home, so full of emotion I was barely conscious of where I was going. It was an intensely hot Australian summer's day, not ideal weather for digging a grave in ground that was mostly hard-packed clay and shale or for leaving a body too long out in the sun. I hurried inside and changed into a pair of shorts. My wife and I didn't say too much to one another before I went back outside to get Josh out of the boot. I carried him down to the bottom of the back garden where there was a large bush under which he would often lay. It seemed appropriate that I should bury him there. With spade, shovel and pick I began to dig, anxious to get the job finished, but frustrated by the hard, sun-baked ground which made progress slow.
Like a robot I toiled on, the sweat pouring down my chest and arms, my mind a jumble of emotion. Pauline came out with a cold drink and as I stopped and turned to thank her, I was grateful for the perspiration pouring off my forehead which I hoped would mingle with the tears and preserve the 'macho' image I was trying to maintain. She later told me I had failed miserably. When, finally, the hole was deep enough and wide enough I lowered Josh down as gently as I could. In death, his 85 lbs seemed a lot heavier than I remembered. His burial for me had been difficult, both physically and emotionally and it is something that remains indelibly in my memory. When I bought Josh I was looking for a dog to become part of our family and a faithful companion for Y.T. He fulfilled both positions with great distinction and stole our hearts along the way.
During the years that followed there were other pets, mainly cats, but never another dog. Like Keith, I have no wish to endure, ever again, the pain of that final seperation. It may seem mushy to some, but as the comments of others in this thread make clear, for we who love dogs the death of a canine pal can be particularly harrowing, much like that of an old and dear friend. It's not easy, Keith, not at first, but it will get better, mate. I found it helpful to think of the good times shared rather than dwell on the loss.
.....Roger
Thanks for that post Roger, and you obviously went through the same emotions as myself. The house is still very empty here, and will take some time, only this morning i looked under the lounge coffee table, and there was one of her toys, a blue ball, so again choked up. This is my 4th dog in our 49 years of marriage,which i have had to see out of this world and i am not emotionally strong enough to do it all again, or indeed have enough years left in me. My only trouble is going to be avoiding puppies, in the future, best regards Keith
Keith.
To a dog you are never too old.
You won't insult your last dog one bit.
There are hundreds of dogs who would love you the same. And I'm sure your last dog would agree.
I write this as my buddy is lying here with his head on my feet.
Harris goes in the plum duff if I go anywhere without him.
Go get another one and let it love you the same.
Ron the batcave
GETTING ANOTHER ONE.
tHERE LIES THE RUB AS WILLIE SHAKESPEARE PUT IT. Boxer dogs are my very favorite . Over the last 32 years Joy and I have had three. When we had the pub in West Sussex we rescued little Kim, she was a favorite with all. We carried her back to Oz with us and she died of natural causes aged 10 and a bit. Next came big Harry the Red, we put him in kennel for three days whilst we visited interstate . A phone call from the kennel told us that poor old Harry, only 7 years, had a twisted bowel and was in agony and the vet wanted $2000.00 to operate, we agreed, however complications set in and we never saw him again. Next we adopted a brindle bitch called Misty , 6 years, a darling girl . For some reason the life span of a boxer is only 10 years and Misty left us this time last year. A very sad Christmas followed. I have been to the very gates of the lost dogs home but as yet have lacked the courage to enter, instead I walk my neighbor's two Border Collies while he and his wife are working. It fills a gap and we have our memories .
Roger my friend #17 you are anything but mushy over this. It is the courage of a man under such circumstances as you recall thta make him what he is. To show emotion over an animal is in my mind the mark of an honorable man. I know only so well the feeling having had to personal put two ani,als down under dire circumstamces. Animals of all types respond to love, and in return give more liove than they ever recieve and it is unconditional.f man could even show half the decency to his fellow man as he does to his pets the world would be far better place.
But the love and memory of an animal never leaves you, two of our cats we had cremated and each night I say good night to them as I pass through the lounge. People may say I am mad or soft in the head, I care not for their comments these were animals thta gave me great love and pleasure.