I make a promise to every dog that comes to live with us. I promise him (or her) that when he becomes too ill to go on, I will not put him through any further pain by having him endure extensive medical treatments to keep him alive so I can have a few more weeks or months with him. I pledge to honor this promise, and that is what I did today. My husband and I agreed to do what was best for our beloved James who suddenly took a dramatic downward turn this weekend. X-rays clearly showed an enlarged round heart, surrounded by fluid and possible tumor. There was no escape from a bad outcome, whether today, or two weeks from now. We were not willing to put our beloved boy through further tests and procedures, all the while risking a rushed trip to the emergency animal hospital in the middle of the night. At 3:00 p.m. this afternoon, our kind, understanding vet came to our house and, while his pals stood by, James drifted off to peaceful, eternal sleep.
Keeping my promise is so very hard to do. I have been down this road more times then I care to have been. But, this is the road we must travel in the end in order to experience such unconditional love and companionship from our canine family members. Knowing you’re doing the right thing, doesn’t make it easier, but in the end, it helps. I hold tight to that thought.
The vet told me that of all our dogs he has cared for over the years, James was his favorite. This dear, sweet old soul won the hearts of everyone. When James and I did hospice care together for 2 ½ years, our patient Caren was one of those people James won over. On our first visit, Caren announced to me that she only liked cats. When I asked her if we should leave, she said, No. I will just look at him. The next week, Caren again said, I only like cats. But, this time, she placed one finger on his head to touch him. James continued to visit Caren for seven months until she died. The last month of her life, he lay along side her in her bed, his head resting on her chest. Throughout our time visiting Caren, she told the aides and nurses that James, her boyfriend, was coming to visit. Caren had no family or friends, it was just James who was there for her. The last visit we made to Caren, she was unable to move or speak. James just lay alongside her in bed and I placed her hand on his head so she could feel his soft fur one last time. When we had to leave, somehow Caren mustered the strength to raise her arm, grabbed my hand tight, and looked up into my face saying, Thank you. Thank you for bringing James to visit me each week. I really mean it.
James enriched our lives. Every single day with him was a gift. As a Therapy Dog, he brought comfort and caring to more than 8,000 patients in nursing homes, hospitals, psychiatric facilities, Alzheimer’s units, and hospice care. He was at my side for every public appearance and talk I made, and was the model Therapy Dog at my Therapy Dog training classes. James piloted our Bright Spot Reading Buddy Program that now has spread to eight elementary schools in four counties of Massachusetts. He loved people and making them happy. This sweet old soul inspired many others to become involved in this work. He was a very special dog.
With each of my dogs, a bit of my heart breaks off and goes with them. With James, a huge chunk broke off. I am comforted in knowing that he is no longer suffering, he is at peace, and I kept my promise to him. My life has been so enriched by having him in it.
I know his sister Julia, brother Duncan, and half sister Phoebe were there to greet him as he passed on. Rest in peace my special boy.