Big Ben
Well-Known Member
When it is your best pal, for many years, the guy that was sent to you in your darkest hour to lead you back into the light at the end of his leash, following that ever wagging tail, it is so hard.
We adopted Muttley back in 2000, took him from death row, he was guessed to be around 2 years old then. We were warned that he was special needs, he had been re-homed and returned a couple of times, but his only special need was that he needed security. I sat on the floor with him for two days while he decided that our house was going to be OK, and that I would look out for him, and from then on we didn't look back. Yes we had issues, you usually do when you adopt, but when he had stopped trying to run away every time our guard dropped, when he finally stopped peeing in the house, life got pretty good.
It took 2 years to finally convince him that sticks were for chasing, or helping me to walk, not for hitting him. About the same length of time to stop him hiding every time a man in the house was drinking beer out of a bottle. Some battles we just had to admit defeat, like the battle of the sofa, and I gracefully admitted defeat and from then on shared with him
Now he is old, he has a gammy back leg from an accident damaging a ligament, and he wasn't a good candidate for surgery, given his dicky heart and everything. He has been going senile for sometime, spends his days either sleeping or standing outside barking at nothing that I can see, OH says he sees the grim reaper. He is now losing weight, has cataracts, he has pain pills daily to try and relieve his arthritis pain, but still he has good days.
Most days he wants to come and do chores with me, he seems to enjoy being out and about, but he is for sure on the slide. Sigh, I know that this is my call and mine alone, but dam it is hard.
We adopted Muttley back in 2000, took him from death row, he was guessed to be around 2 years old then. We were warned that he was special needs, he had been re-homed and returned a couple of times, but his only special need was that he needed security. I sat on the floor with him for two days while he decided that our house was going to be OK, and that I would look out for him, and from then on we didn't look back. Yes we had issues, you usually do when you adopt, but when he had stopped trying to run away every time our guard dropped, when he finally stopped peeing in the house, life got pretty good.
It took 2 years to finally convince him that sticks were for chasing, or helping me to walk, not for hitting him. About the same length of time to stop him hiding every time a man in the house was drinking beer out of a bottle. Some battles we just had to admit defeat, like the battle of the sofa, and I gracefully admitted defeat and from then on shared with him
Now he is old, he has a gammy back leg from an accident damaging a ligament, and he wasn't a good candidate for surgery, given his dicky heart and everything. He has been going senile for sometime, spends his days either sleeping or standing outside barking at nothing that I can see, OH says he sees the grim reaper. He is now losing weight, has cataracts, he has pain pills daily to try and relieve his arthritis pain, but still he has good days.
Most days he wants to come and do chores with me, he seems to enjoy being out and about, but he is for sure on the slide. Sigh, I know that this is my call and mine alone, but dam it is hard.