A week today. I miss my Muffy dog.

She was a bad dog really, in so many ways but I loved her.
The cruel thing about pets is the difference in lifespans.

It was decided for me that a puppy was required as Lui dog was very old.
I didn’t really want one. Wifey wanted a puppy that Lui would apparently teach the ways of the house and how to be a good dog.

I do not like petshops. Tried for a bit to get a suitable dog from the pound. Lui was a pound dog. I’m not sure how old he was, 17 years at minimum. Possibly closer to 20..they aren’t supposed to live as long as he did. My grandma would always say that he had just forgotten to die.

We ended up at a local petshop. Not a nice place, looking at a dirty perspex box and debating just buying one. Jack russels.
Went home without her only to return later.

Tried and failed to crate train her.
Part her fault. Mostly ours for caving.

Even from the start she would freak out when separated. Always needed to be close by or on us.
I’d learn later that it was a common problem in pups that were taken from their parents too early. Puppy farm dog perhaps? I’ll never know.

She destroyed so many things. The standouts apart from the usual shoes and clothing was coming home to find she ate a arm off the couch, another day a honest to god window sill. And there is the afternoon a few months later with Lui.

I hated her for that.

We were out shopping and on a whim (god how I regretted that later) stopped off for dinner. Laughed while there and wondered what chaos we would return to.
Returned home to find Lui shaking in a corner with his throat torn open.

I made the decision in the car that I’d have him euthanized. The emergency vet told me that they could try and treat him, but it would mean a week or more in a cage being monitored. No. He was very old, mostly blind and very frail. Not what I wanted to do but it was the right call.

Carried my dead Lui dog home in my lap and buried him.

I think she just caught him in the wrong spot while trying to groom him, remove a tangle, had seen her do it before. His skin was very thin and it ripped and that was it. I don’t think I was cruel to her afterwards but I pushed her away for a long time.

I barely remember her as a puppy after that. Didn’t have much to do with her. This is one of the things that hurts now.
Eventually I forgave her, but her behavior never really got better.

She would sit on command, most of the time.
She would “go pee” most of the time while making sure to look over her shoulder at us.

That was about it. The rest of the time she did whatever.
I’m fine with that. For me dogs are a companion animal, I don’t get anything out of making them do tricks.

2011, September.
Either she got caught on something, or a stranger (that was yelling at her through the fence) cut open her tail.
for something like two weeks I was taking here to the vet ever couple of days to get dressings re-done. It just didn’t work. Even with a cone she kept reopening the stitches. Eventually got part of it cut off so they could stitch it.

2013, May.
She kept scratching and scratching at her face. She had a weird lump on her muzzle that would go away.
Here. Take my money. Fix her. Booked in for surgery the same day. IV fluids after so she feels better. Yes, just like every other time.

2013, June?
I’m not sure about the order, she had another one on her face. This one burst and cleared without surgery. Just a couple of weeks dabbing blood off her face.

2013, July.
More lumps. This time on the inside of her back leg. Not good.
Booked in for the next day. Just do whatever and bill me. They agreed to take samples and remove it if possible.
…now this is one of the things I really regret.

They didn’t remove it. And 900$ later tell me that the tests didn’t show much, they think its a fatty lymphoma…and for a few thousand more they could remove her leg. Otherwise she would probably die in about 3 months, or she might be fine. Who knows. Also odds are it would just pop up elsewhere or already be internal.

We made the decision to let it be. There was no way she would cope with a extended stay. It took three people to hold her for anything plus she was always apeshit anyway. Later she had another one on her face. This one burst open and cleared but it seemed to indicate that she had multiple problems and it would be better just to let her be. She wasn’t in pain and what were we supposed to do, just keep cutting bits off her? Whos that for? Her or us?

Looking back. Perhaps I made the wrong decision. I don’t know. It sure does hurt thinking about it. If I’d had any hint that she would live for over three more years, as opposed to months, I think I would have. And again. More hurt. Money was a factor. Not the main or a deciding one but a problem, my job was going to shit around the same time and all of this was on credit.

Wondering if I was being cheap/did the wrong thing because of money has been in my thoughts a lot.
Even over the last few months, I’ve been looking at options, drugs, specialty surgery, those little harness things with wheels.

Always the same conclusion. I’d make her suffer. She wouldn’t cope with the after care and she was probably full of cancer anyway.
Just let her be.

And we did. For three years.
The lump became a mass. The mass got lumps on it.

She coped so well, as time move on she lost the use of the leg. It poked out and a bit to the side.
She coped. Still a terrible yappy dog. Running around, having sleepie days with me after my nightshifts.
Chasing cats.

Over the last six months she lost the little use she had remaining and had trouble jumping. Steps added for her.
Then whatever it was started (assuming) moving elsewhere.
She coped.

Right up to the last day she was running around after the cats, having pats and happy.
But she made it obvious that it was time. We always said that if she was in pain she would tell us. She became leaky and bit, just once, and unprovoked, could immediately see afterwards that she was sorry, but it was time.

These was no way she would have coped with being bundled into the car (another of her failings, apeshit in cars) and put on a cold metal table.
Just as I wouldn’t have coped driving home with her in my lap after.

I found a vet that would come out, and spent the day digging a hole while Naomi spent time with her saying good bye. I spent almost 24hours with her dozing the day before. She yelped once at the first needle, went to sleep, stopped breathing after the second.

Buried her in a old shirt. She always liked sleeping in them.
Two weeks later, im at work crying again while trying to finish writing this.

I think its the what-ifs that are hurting the most. That and all the ways I failed her. All the things she missed out on.
Perhaps she could have been treated. Perhaps I could have tried harder to train her. I never even *tried* taking her camping. All the times she had rashes and fleas, did I use the wrong stuff? Was her food wrong? Did I make her sick? Was it the same thing that made me sick? Did the house make us sick?

Perhaps instead of going on holiday you could have skipped a year and taken the leg.
All I know for sure is she is gone and it hurts.




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