Goodbye Devon

On January 15, I finally had Devon put down.

I was taking to A about the dogs since I would be going away for the next weekend. I said, "maybe I'll just ask J if I could bring Blossom" then realized I said nothing of Devon; I must have subconsciously made the decision that he would not be here. It was time to do the right thing by my dog, who had lived with us, since he was three months old, for almost 14 years.

Toy Manchesters are very healthy dogs in all aspects, with the exception of their mouths. At this point, Devon had only half of his teeth left, despite the fact that I cleaned his teeth fairly regularly. I even had a set of dental tools to scrape off tarter, which would come of in large chunks.

Last July, J noticed a large red bump on his tongue as they waited in the Saab (convertible) as I ran into the store. As he would pant, you could see a marble-sized lump right in the middle of his tongue! We were on our way down to my parents' house, so I took him to their vet.

The vet suggested we put him under general anesthesia to take a biopsy. If it came back positive, have him simply not wake up. The problem with removing it was that most of his tongue would have to be removed and there is a large vein that runs underneath....

Anyway, none of that matters now. I put it off for 18 months. For the past couple of months, he would wimper if his head was touched. I think his gums were receeding very quickly so he was uncomfortable if not in pain.

I had asked someone go with me who was extremely supportive. I hate being so emotional and out of control in front of people, but I do not think I could have done it alone or with J. My vet was amazing; comforting, supportive and soothing. I know I was doing the right thing (crying now) but it doesn't make it any easier. I kept telling myself "I can still change my mind and not do this, but once that second needle is in, it is too late." I stayed strong, I think, and went through with it all.

To make things even more difficult, I did this in January when the ground was partially frozen. I had to wait to bury him out back because I had to call MissUtility to mark the utility lines. Truly, if it had not been freezing, literally, outside, I would have considered a different solution to having him in the car for six days. But, I did want him buried out back, near where he would lie in the sunshine, legs tucked underneath with his eyes closed.

I think his disappearance has affected Blossom: she howls when we leave, she is extremely happy (more than normal) when we return, she is even more submissive and needy. Like the grieving for me, it will take her time.

With him gone, it is the little funny little things that I notice. The first morning afterwards, I went to take the "dogs" out. Blossom ran out and I stood there a moment, with the door open, waiting for Devon. I almost even called him again; he will never come when called. He liked to lie next to me on my bed, shaking, which drove me nuts. He would be curled up on the dog bed and Jones (the cat) would lick his head; he would grumble, but take it.

I received a couple of suggestions, other than the obvious of just burying him:
Kathy: right after he is put down, straighten his legs. When rigor mortis sets in, you can take him to an Irish pub, stand him in the middle of the table and have a wake.
Mark: right after he is put down, fold his legs under him, as if he is lying down. Then, you can put him in a purse, with his head sticking out, and carry him around like Paris Hilton carries her dog.

I did neither, but appreciate the ideas; thanks guys.

He was a great dog. Yes, he farted, whined and shook like a dryer with sneakers inside. But, he would walk directly beside me without a leash and loved to ride in the convertible, hopping around me as we got in the car. He was a very sweet dog.

I miss you terribly, Dev.