Where Can I Put My Dog Down

Where Can I Put My Dog Down – His life was not good. I resent the way my dog ​​Sheba grew up – I wasn’t necessarily involved in the family, but she didn’t get enough attention at home. He is a large German Shepherd who demands a lot of activity from our family. No one is home often, people rarely visit, and it’s generally not a good environment for pets.

I never wanted a dog, but as I got older, I did, first out of pity, then pure love—playing with him, loving him, getting to know him. He started as “my dog”. Friends used to say that when I take his place or leave him in the car when I run errands, he faithfully waits for me, waiting for me to come back. When I came home from school, we would walk together in the yard. When I eat alone, I share a small portion of whatever I have with him.

Where Can I Put My Dog Down

But I was rarely at home – there was a lot of fighting in my house, and I would distract myself as much as possible, with school or friends.

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So where there was love for Sheba, there was abandonment, and that abandonment met her. His unrestrained energy manifests in screams and cries when someone comes. Those who came could feel Sheba’s anxiety and loneliness, so did I, but I myself was anxious and alone and young and immature.

This is a sad irony, because in the last years of her life, Sheba suffered from multiple sclerosis. Day after day, a dog that constantly has to move more and more loses its ability to move. I would come home from college and he would rush to see me, but he didn’t have the energy to do it. It is mind-centered; I was watching my dog ​​die before my eyes.

Struggled to reduce I would think of Sheba, she was home alone all day, crippled, lonely, sad. How he stopped eating, lost his sight and hearing. I knew it was the right decision, as everyone who saw the situation knew, but my father didn’t want to let it go. There was a fierce battle for his welfare – I actually lost my temper and told my father that I didn’t want to put the dog down because he didn’t want to be alone in life. I’m sorry, things I don’t want to say.

We finally set up an appointment, but before we put him down on the last day, there was a fierce fight at home. Things are broken, threats are made. I stood on the stairs and watched my dog ​​trying to drown in the fight. “Normal,” I thought, tears welling up in my eyes. Very special to my family. My dog’s last night on earth, we should do something like this.

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I sat next to Sheba to comfort her. I cried for many reasons. Sheba should live a good life, my family shouldn’t be like this – things I can’t change but wishes should be different. But instead of me comforting her, she sensed my sadness and started licking me. I moved my face close to hers and she nuzzled my face for a moment and then licked it. It tickled and I laughed.

Last night, I spent a lot of time sitting next to Sheba. I grabbed her and spanked her and she repeatedly licked my legs and hands. I whispered that no matter what, he would always be my dog, my #1, my favorite, forever. His mouth was open and it looked like a smile, but I couldn’t tell. The tail was long, so I couldn’t tell if it was moving or not. But he didn’t scream or cry anymore. He felt no pain. He bowed his head and closed his eyes as I hit him.

The next morning, my father and I quietly went to the doctor. Last night there were still many words and fights between us. Sheeba sat in the back seat, taking one last look at the trees.

At the doctor, they put Sheba under anesthesia and took us all to a separate room. We wrap around Sheba as she lies on the mattress and falls asleep. “You’re going to take a nap,” I told her.

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The doctor took the needle and said that once the overdose is done, it will be over. We all laid hands on Sheba. His eyes lit up, and he laid his head on the ground. He looked tired. His life isn’t great, but he’s finally going to sleep. He deserves others.

As the doctor pressed the syringe, Sheba’s eyes grew heavy and her breathing slowed. I saw my father holding it and rubbing it, and I suddenly realized that this is how he had always held me when I was little. So much love and affection. He started crying. I put my hand on his shoulder. “No problem” I said.

The doctor completed the injection and checked Sheba’s heartbeat. “It’s over,” he whispered. We stayed there for a while. I had never been around a dead body before and it was hard to process. If we shake him or take food, his eyes start to open again. But death and time cannot be redeemed, we rise. We both gently touched her head and left.

When we got home, my father lit a candle and mourned the Kaddish, as Jews do for the death of loved ones. As he stumbled over the words, I looked at him, really looked at him – at that moment, he was too old for me. My father had a difficult life. Most of the people he was close to had died, and he and I—his only son—had a very bad relationship. I know she loves my dog ​​so much, almost like a third child, that’s another thing, another thing that makes her feel so alone.

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When she finished I mustered up the courage to hug her and tell her I loved her. He looked shocked and unconcerned and didn’t respond for a second as if to process what I said. But he told me he loved me too, and I heard him whisper a whisper that could only be heard at the end, “Forever.”

A dog of Shiba’s personality and size couldn’t have a better life. But like any life, there were moments when he was truly happy, and he died happy, or at least well, surrounded by a brother and a father, sometimes to the chagrin of those who loved him. Confused.

But life goes on. Shaba’s death felt like the end of an era for me. He was my childhood dog, he grew up in the same house with me, and now it’s all gone. I was about to turn 20 and I had moved out of my parents’ house and I had lost that anchor.

I don’t know if there is a God or heaven, but Sheba is running in a field somewhere, her legs and youth are coming back to her, her tail is wagging again, there is endless peanut butter and food everywhere. He was never alone, there was always someone ready to play with him, pet him and tell him they loved him.

True Story:

Although there is no afterlife, I know Sheba is in a better place because she no longer suffers. He is independent. Life goes on and we like to learn as much as we can for the future. life goes on. This post may contain affiliate links. You can get money or goods from the companies mentioned in this post.

The second a dog enters your life, you can’t imagine your day without them. They feel almost eternal. You hope they always knock on the door with dancing eyes when you come home.

No dog dies if our love keeps them alive. But we all know that love alone is not enough. Sooner or later, we have to say goodbye.

The doctor entered the exam room as I tried to hyperventilate through my tears. Dante, our beloved German Shepherd, still receives painkillers by injection in the back room.

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I could feel the blood pounding in my ears as my heart pounded, and the tears streamed down my face like rivers.

“First, we can open his spleen. This operation, if he does it, will be very difficult for an old dog.

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