Dogs are Part of the Family

There are not many things in this world of which I am scared; only three, in fact. They are 1) awkward conversational moments, 2) endless ocean waters, and 3) the possibility of never finding a wife. That's it. However, there's been something creeping up on me for almost a year now that is beginning to scare me a little bit. One of my dogs is getting very old, and I'm afraid we're going to have to put him down sometime soon.

Anyone who has ever lost or had to put down a pet knows how hard it is. As the title of this blog says, "Dogs are Part of the Family." I guess you could substitute "dogs" with "pets," but I don't really like cats or birds or fish or iguanas, or cows (don't ask), so I'll stick with dogs. When I was about 17 or 18 years old we had to put down one of our 3 dogs, Brownleg. He was my brother's dog, and we had had him for over 16 years before his hips and legs got too weak to go up/down stairs or sit/stand up without pain or any progress whatsoever. He was indeed part of our family. I thought my dad, brother, and myself were all "manly men" with your typical reserved emotions; but that is one thing that, no matter how mature you are or how far away you see it coming or how much you try to prepare, still gets to you. We ended up taking Brownleg to the vet and then buried him when we got home, completing one of the toughest days any of us have ever gone through.

Well, we've had our yellow lab Max ever since I was in grade school, at least 10-12 years I think. He has been the one dog out of our three that I have bonded with the most. I used to be the one at home during summers taking care of him and the other dogs while my parents were at work, and my brother was the one that bonded with Brownleg (that leaves my mother's dog, Mo, our black lab that is mentally retarded but is wearing on me). Outside of the 2 years when I lived in Columbus for college, Max has slept in my room since as long as I can remember. When I come home late at night (which is a lot), he is always there laying underneath the kitchen table waiting for me. As I walk past the table to my bedroom where my computer and television are, he gets up from underneath the table and follows me into the room every time and lays down at the foot of my bed on the white-hair-layered, navy blue carpet. He will wait there until I get off the computer and crawl into bed, and then he'll get up and put his head on the side of my bed and wait for my okay before jumping up.

That's how it used to be, at least. About 2-3 months ago there were a few nights in a row where he would try to jump up onto my bed and would get stuck halfway, like a rock-climber losing his grip on the very top rock of a cliff. It was weird, because I seriously think that Max was embarassed when this happened. For about a month, I had to help him up onto the bed every night because he wouldn't jump without any assistance. After a while, I needed to completely pick him up and put him on the bed. After doing that for a while, I decided to force him to try to get up himself; but he would get stuck, and I kept having to help him back down off the side of the bed without hurting himself. He would then turn and cower by the foot of my bed for the rest of the night. After a few nights of this, I stopped giving him the okay and made him sleep at the foot of my bed.

After I stopped allowing Max up on my bed, he caught on quickly like most smart dogs would. But for some reason earlier this week, I was laying in bed and he put his head up on the foot of my bed like old times, waiting for me to tell him it was okay. I thought he had given up since I had, but I patted the bed and said "okay." He jumped right up like a champ... So proud of him. So, all this week he's been sleeping on my bed. I know deep down, though, that we are both setting him up for failure. But as I told my mom earlier this year, Max may not live another year or maybe two, so I'll let him jump up as long as he's able. I can handle the more-than-regular vaccuuming of my floor and changing/cleaning of my top blanket(s). Remember, he is one hairy, shedding dog!

As I type, Max is laying sprawled out on the carpet behind me, between me and my television/bed. But who knows how long we'll have him. I know the day is coming when we'll have to get rid of him, and I am kind of scared - I am curious as to how I will react. But that is still a little while off, so why am I dwelling? He is part of the family, and we will enjoy him as long as he's still with us.

May God continue to bless you.
-Marcum