A Thousand Memories

A picture may well be worth a thousand words, but a single photograph can trigger a thousand memories.

This is our beautiful boy, Whiskey, posing for the camera at his doggie daycare on Thursday, December 20th. He’d been sent for the whole (rather than half) day for the first time in close to a year because he needed his nails trimmed back and the groomer was only available in the afternoons. It was sure to exhaust our old boy, who had been struggling with arthritis and slowing mobility for many months, but it was the only logistical way to ensure the pedicure.

                                 Whiskey's perfect day with his doggie daycare pals.

When I picked him up in the afternoon, he was limping, and the stiffness that was apparent in his movements was initially attributed to his overly active day. Twenty-four hours later, he was in our veterinary hospital infirmary, running a fever and needing IV fluids to restore him to good health. By Saturday morning, he was on his way back home, his situation more precarious as he battled an infection, elevated white blood cell counts, and some kind of internal organ hemorrhage. We were given pain and healing medication after he’d received an injected antibiotic, and the hope was that he would recover enough by Monday morning to make further decisions. By Sunday morning, his breath was shallow, and his cat siblings were watching over him with concern as he rested in his little bed, which he hadn’t left since his return home. As the afternoon passed and he grew alarmingly worse, neighbours came to say goodbye because we had made the decision to end his obvious suffering; we called our family and they came over to help him cross the Rainbow Bridge peacefully and lovingly, with the kind help of our vet who made the house call. My sister’s dog Scarlett, his lifelong bff, cried on the kitchen floor after he was carried out; if there is ever any proof needed that dogs are capable of the greatest empathy and love towards others, Scarlett’s tears of grief are all I will ever have to remember.

                                    Scarlett and Whiskey; a bonded pair of lifelong friends.

And so we come back to that photograph, snapped almost routinely but which has taken on a greater meaning for me now that Whiskey is gone. When I look at it closely, I cannot reconcile the young face I see with the pained senior boy who deteriorated so rapidly in the three days that followed. He is looking happily at the camera and posing in a way that he disliked doing at home in recent weeks, and seems very comfortable sitting for the photographer. His eyes are alert, and despite the slight turn of his left hind leg, he is focussed and attentive.

I have come to realise that he must have sensed his own decline, and that he knew his good days were largely behind him and that the end was nearer than we thought. We knew climbing stairs were challenging, and that walks were now slower and shorter, and I had made remarks to friends that he was going to break my heart sometime next year, but I didn't sense that we were facing his final days or week quite so soon. I think he went into the daycare that morning believing that it was his last visit, and he was determined to make the best of the day and just go all out with his pals and have the time of his life with them. Indeed, one of his caregivers made the remark to me that they could not get him to rest at all, that he was in the thick of it all day long, resisting timeouts, determined to make every minute count despite the pain it might have caused him. For eight brief but magical hours, Whiskey was a young pup again, running and playing and enjoying being social with all his friends like he had done at dog parks years before, when his legs were faster and his body more agile.

I am grateful that he got the chance to have this final adventure, this beautiful gift of a perfect day before he died, and I am equally thankful that we were able to let him leave this life surrounded by everyone who mattered the most to him, including Scarlett. His passing was loving, gentle, and peaceful, and after a long and happy life with us, it is all I would wish for this wonderful friend.

RIP, Whiskey. I will love and miss you every day of my life, and I will cherish the thousands of warm memories of our ten years together. Run free, beautiful boy. <3