Despite his advancing age – almost twelve, which is getting up there for a Labrador Retriever – the onset of diabetes at age six, then blindness caused by diabetes, our Lab had a life that never saw a single day of abuse or neglect. Despite all his ailments, and they mounted as he aged, he was generally content and lively ’til the end, which came last Tuesday, January 24, 2012.
We adopted Cubby and his litter mate, Toby, in June 2000. They were rambunctious, energetic, mischievous-by-the-minute, pups, all of a few weeks of age. They came from a farm where my husband called its original owner, Bill Vaughan, Sr., ‘gramps’ as a child. A long-time farming family, it was Bill Vaughan Jr.’s Lab, Dixie, that had a litter of eight yellow Labs – three males, five females.
The ‘boys,’ as we called Cubby and Toby, were more than a handful most of the time, their energy only spent completely either retrieving balls, for which they were champs, though Toby would lose interest after about five tosses, and while we were at the cottage where they would retrieve any object imaginable from the lake. Oddly, it was Toby who would then retrieve endlessly, being a far stronger swimmer; he was nothing short of amazing in the water. Cubby, on the other hand, would retrieve on land until I felt my arm would fall off if I threw another ball. He would have made, I’m convinced, an ideal sporting dog.
We lost Toby in November of 2008, unexpectedly. After a trip to the cottage he had hurt his back, which exacerbated an underlying spinal condition. Within four days he lost the use of his back legs. I spent the last night with him in the living room, sleeping on the couch beside him while he slept restlessly on the floor. He kept wanting to get up, seemingly not in any pain. That was the worst part – he just didn’t have any strength left in those back legs to stand.
We were all devastated when Toby had to be euthanized. I cried for two days straight – none of us had anticipated his demise. We worried about Cubby, already blind at this point, without his brother.
Strangely, he adapted quickly, though I think it was because all of our attention was suddenly showered on him. He was taken everywhere with us… rain, shine, snow…. we even kept our aging minivan solely for the dog to travel comfortably when we took him out.
Cubby was still in pretty good shape, apart from the diabetes, three years ago. He was still energetic, could walk endlessly, even retrieve sticks in the lake at the cottage. But this past year I, who spent almost every day with him, saw him declining. About two months ago he was having a difficult time just making the trek around our short block. This month – January 2012 – he wasn’t himself.
Last Monday I telephoned our vet to take him in for something completely unrelated. Tuesday morning he was lethargic, and not interested in anyone at the vet’s office, which was unusual. When I took him into one of the examining rooms, as if on cue, he vomited and there was blood. The first time we had seen blood. Martina X-rayed his left lung, which was clear, then his right and it was then that she and the other vets saw the lesions.
My first response was that I didn’t want any heroics – no medications, no more examinations, no more putting my boy through any more pain or ‘we can try this’ scenarios. I knew him better than anyone and Martina was clear in her explanations of the gravity of the situation and his other ailments, and they were increasing weekly. He’d been through enough.
While Cubby’s death – like any pet’s – was traumatic, I knew that we made the right decision. I like to think that he’s up there with his brother, free from pain, free of the daily medications, and free of the daily insulin injections that he’d tolerated for almost six years.
If you’ve had pets who were ill, then you’ll know of what I write. One is torn between doing the right, humane, thing and keeping your pet alive just so that one doesn’t have to say goodbye. Saying goodbye last week was the humane thing to do.
