My Big Dog

My big dog is not well.  You can't tell by looking at him. 

Until he begins to move. 

This is my Eugene, in a photo taken this summer. The big guy on the floor. He still eats well and is in general, a happy dog. He's often somewhere near Gregory, or Gregory is somewhere near him. His spine and nerves are deteriorating, making it difficult for him to walk, and harder for him to control his body or even get up on is own.  Yet, he still looks forward to a walk in the neighborhood where on a good day he can sniff the grasses and check out the doggy bulletin boards. He just can't go very far.  

On a bad day it's difficult and trying, exasperating really. Hard for others to watch. Sadly, his condition is much like having human ALS and will not improve.  So we count each day as a blessing and hope we have the strength to say good-bye when it's time.  We've had that talk with his veterinarian already. 

It just seems like yesterday we went through this with our Gracie.  It was only a few months after her death when Eugene began his decline. We suspect it won't be long before he won't be able to get up at all. We watch the days and compare them, to be sure his good days outnumber the rough ones.  And when they don't any longer, we'll have to make that awful decision to end his life before his body becomes a burden he can no longer carry.  

Eugene has been an extraordinary dog - a therapy dog, a watch dog, a gentle giant that never left my side if he could help it. We were once filmed for an episode of Virginia Currents during a therapy visit. He never met a stranger, but didn't take kindly to perceived threats and he'd put himself between me and another in a heartbeat, in the gentlest way, just in case.  He loved to ride in cars and still does, loved being anywhere we were and still does. Eugene, as my friend Polly will say, is magnificent.  So we celebrate the time that remains.