The staff of the vet hospital came out to the car and took Shottie in on a stretcher. I think he knew... I think he was ready. The vet didn't give us much hope and it was his opinion that the possibility of cancer that he'd mentioned was now a reality. People often forget that doctors or all kinds are human and not miracle workers; they don't always know what's wrong. He told us that we had other options for treatment, but didn't offer us much hope for recovery.
What hurts so much right now is that Shottie was awake, he was aware, he was his wonderful sweet self and yet we still let him go. The family decision was that none of us wanted him to be in pain. He didn't complain and the fight had gone out of him. So it was clear that if he wasn't in pain and was practically dragging himself about instead of walking, that he was heading toward or was already at a paralysis stage.
We stayed with our dog until he had passed on. It was sad and somehow moving. I got to thinking that he could easily have ended up in a shelter as a puppy and not have found a home, but ended up with us. The hands on him when he left us were those that had cared for him the better part of his life. He just slipped away. It was just quiet.
This has been hard on all of us, but hardest on Tom. Shottie has been with him about half of his life. Saddest thing I have heard from him is ... "I wanted another dog, but not like this." He wanted to have two dogs, but we told him no.
( Pictures behind the cut )