I had to put down my beloved Baron this weekend. He was a German Shepard/St. Bernard cross. He was 15 and a half years old. When I called the Vet to make the housecall, she asked how old he was. When I told her she said "Holy Crap! Are you Serious?" The last week or so he had lost a lot of control over his bowels and bladder and couldn't get up without help. Thankfully, the Vet was able to come to the house on Saturday so he didn't suffer the final indignity of being carried to the Vet and and being scared in his last moments.
He went peacefully, a gentle dog to the end.
We moved into our house 15 years ago; I've never lived here without him. He was our first dog and outlived two other great dogs that are no longer with us. The house is so empty.
He went peacefully, a gentle dog to the end.
We moved into our house 15 years ago; I've never lived here without him. He was our first dog and outlived two other great dogs that are no longer with us. The house is so empty.