There Was A Dog

 We had to say goodbye.

We didn't want to.

We had to.

For over fifteen years you have been one of the family.

 Sir Charles, the bulldog, had to leave us last year.

We still miss "Chally-Too Phat."

Now we're going and have to live without you as well...

so you can be well, again.

You were chained to a tree before you first came to live with us.

Now you're chained to our hearts.

This was your equally handsome father, Boss.

You were the result of his one night (afternoon) stand.

...Oops.

You lived the first year of your life chained to a tree. It was a hot Georgia summer.

Talk about the dog days of summer.

Then we got Ziggy.

Now you're fifteen. Charlie was almost fourteen when he died and Ziggy just turned seven.

We've never had a more loyal or humble dog.

You started to go blind before you were seven years old. Your father (Boss) did as well.

It was genetic.

You adapted like it was nothing. You knew the house, yards and lay of the land. We never rearranged the furniture or left a chair pushed out from the table.

Then after you went totally blind, the dog fights started.

Charlie was a brat who's bark was worse than his bite...and he would lay in the middle of a doorway or middle of a room, or any other terrible choice of a place to plop down. Then when you'd bump into him,  he would elicit that gravelly, mean sounding growl,which he could not back up, in the very least.

As Tim once said:

"Ham never started a dog fight, but he always finished one."

Then we uprooted and moved you to Florida, to a house, yard and climate totally foreign to you.  It didn't take much getting used to, it was the size of a sardine can  (including the yard).

Then almost a year ago, we uprooted you once again and moved you to our new/old forever home.

It's been a tough move for you...I know.

We all know.

The yards are massive and totally strange to you. Plants, palms, oak trees and cacti are every where, in every part of the yard. Flower beds and vines cover the entire perimeter as well as right next to the house.

It's been really stressful on you...

and I am so, so sorry you are hurting.

We took Ham outside the other day...per his recent ritual.  He eats, goes out in the morning, sleeps for about ten hours, then goes out again to do his business and is back to snoring after a bumbling, now stumbling walk around the perimeter of the inside of the house.

That's no life for a dog who used to do this, on a daily basis:

We took him out the other day and he couldn't even stand up while he attempted to relieve himself.

It was humiliating.

He doesn't deserve that.

The mobile vet is coming in the morning to give Ham his wings back so he can soar again.

Nobody puts our Baby in a corner.

Not any more.

We've gone back and forth about when it was going to be time to do it, for way  too long... and has now ended up being not soon enough.

That's not fair to Ham.

He totally deserves every ounce of dignity we can afford and allow him to have...and we almost let him down, to make ourselves feel better, by simply having him around for us.

Humans are selfish.

 Dogs are selfless.

Once we bring them into our home and lives, they have to rely on us for every single thing, every single day, every single time.

And never complain about when or if, they even get it, at all.

What a concept to live by.

I've always had a dog and it has always made me  better person.

True story.

"Out of the mouths of babes."

Oh Ham.

It breaks our hearts to let you go, and we feel awful about making you suffer, at all.

Our bad.

It's hard to let a piece of yourself go.

Especially such an intricate, seemingly vital part.

Rest easy Big Fella.

You will be sorely missed.

Til next time,

COTTON

Dreading The Inevitable

This guy.

Our HAM.

He came to live with us when he was a young pup and has been one of the best dogs I've ever had the pleasure to meet. My brother in law rescued him from living chained to a tree in the hot Georgia summer and brought him over to our house for a visit. Ham never left. When he was about five we noticed a slow change in him. His father, who still belonged to my sister had gone blind at a young age and unfortunately Ham was going blind as well.  Also unfortunate for Ham, this happened when we were essentially broke. People rallied to Ham's support and graciously donated more than enough money to pay for a consultation with a vet who could perform lens implant surgery to restore his sight. It was the same vet my sister had used to restore her pups' sight. We also located a charity willing to fund the entire procedure, which would cost over three thousand dollars for just one eye. One eye was better than none and knew he would get used to it.

 I didn't even own a car at the time and had to borrow a friends, but my son Zach rode with me and took Ham for his consultation. The doctor even had a picture of Ham's father in her office!

She told us after her examination that we needed to get Ham's shots up to date and then could schedule the surgery.  I knew it would be about three hundred bucks for shots and a check up and like I said, we were some broke ass jokes back then. Someone told me about a mobile low cost vet who came to our town once a week. We went the next week and indeed he was dirt cheap. He parked his van in a parking lot by the county animal shelter and you simply waited in your car after filling out the paperwork until it was your turn. Then the vet came over to your car and examined your dog, took a blood sample and gave your pet their shots...and went back to his van to read the blood sample.

Ham's blood work came back positive for heart worms. It devastated me and even more devastating meant he couldn't have the surgery. I checked around and learned that curing the heart worms would cost around three thousand dollars as well.

Back to the 'Vet in a Van' we went the very next week. He said he could do it for $400 with three shots. The first one, then a second one the very next day and a third one the following month. I used what was left of donations for Ham's surgery to have the treatment done. It was touch and go but Ham came through like a champ, and six weeks later tested negative for heart worms.

Then Murphy's Law took over...again.

After calling the vet opthmologist back and telling her what had transpired, the charity decided it was too risky to put Ham under anesthesia  now, for what they perceived as elective surgery. He could live without sight, but powerful sedation may kill him given his previous heart worm status.

So we just let him be and incredibly enough he adapted to sightless life. After all, he had lived in our house and yards long enough to know every inch of the place and maneuvered it like the boss he was. 

Once his sight was totally gone he became more nervous and by now we also had Charlie and Ziggy. Charlie could be a grump and if Ham accidentally bumped into him often growled at Ham. Ziggy was still a youthful pup and only wanted to nip and play, which made Ham even more nervous as Ziggy darted around him.

Then the sporadic dog fights started.

Our once copacetic trio turned into a shit show. Ham got even more nervous when he couldn't see what or who was around him and when scared would often react in defense mode. Soon Ziggy and Ham had to be kept apart at all times, when they used to be best buds.

Charlie was easy to control, the laziest dog ever, was just happy to have a place to plop down.

I really thought the move to Orlando would be the end of Ham.

He rode with me the day of our move. He didn't sit down in the car seat until we were over four hours in on the drive to Orlando.

Then he had to learn and navigate totally new and unknown surroundings.

Once again, he amazed us all. 

The first night we left him with my brother so we could unload the moving van without having to put him in a strange room all alone. My brother said Ham took a cautious stroll around his house and knew the place within five minutes.

The next morning my cell rang (with an Orlando number) and a woman asked if I had a dog named Ham? She had found him in her yard, half a mile away from my brother's place and called the number on his dog tag.

 I called my brother and he told me Ham was gone and had been looking for him for half an hour.

He'd put Ham out (into his fenced in yard) and went back inside to brush his teeth. He came out five minutes later and Ham was gone.

Somehow, someway, Ham (totally blind) found a way out of my brother's yard and meandered half a mile away...in the direction of our new house. The woman didn't even know he was blind until I told her. She told me he was the sweetest dog she'd ever met.

Massey went and picked Ham up and brought him home to our new rental house.

Yet again he quickly adapted to his new digs. One walk through the house and the ole man had it down. Five minutes in the tiny back yard and he knew every inch of it. The dog is simply amazing and unbelievably adept.

He and Charlie were good buddies. He and Ziggy were good buddies. Then they weren't. 

I don't blame Ham. I blame me.

We moved him from his comfort zone in Georgia to an unknown zone and then some.

As much as I love my dogs, we just did what we had to do.

Ziggy and Ham both have changed since Charlie has been gone these few short weeks. Neither one of them have gotten on to the love seat, which was Sir Charles throne.

Ham, who is even older than Charlie was, has seemed to realize it's his time as well.

He isn't eating much and moves from dog bed to dog bed. He doesn't seem to be in pain but more resigned to the fact that his time is coming to walk over the Rainbow Bridge.

Tim and I were talking just last night about how much he has slowed down and both agreed it wouldn't be much longer that we had him around.

I left for work this morning  before noon. Massey texted me at work around one and said she was worried he wouldn't be alive when she got home from work tonight. She went into work at two, a total wreck and my brother told her to take his truck and credit card and to go take Ham to the vet.

While his intentions were admirable we need to be be realistic. Ham has lived for almost thirteen years and led a pretty great life with us.

If I loaded him up in a truck and took him to the vet, he would be traumatized just by the ride and would totally freak out going blindly into a vet office with dogs barking which he couldn't see and would most probably send him into cardiac arrest.

I'd rather have the old boy go right here in our rental house, where he finally feels comfortable and preferably in his sleep. 

I left work after Massey's call. My managers told me to go and never hesitated about letting me do so.

I came home and found my stethoscope I'd had since Massey was little and suffered from asthma.

His heart beat is slow, very slow and often times quits beating for several seconds. I know this isn't a good sign but as long as he seems pain free will let him die on his own, on his own terms, in a place where he feels at home.

I pray that God takes Ham sooner than later.

He's been an awesome dog. He's lived a long good life with us and been equally as good to us if not more.

Life is a just a chapter in your existence.

It's time for Ham to run and play again. It's time for him to see everything clearly and jump for joy.

 

Oh Ham.

You have been an amazing addition to our lives and given us miles of smiles.

My last wish for you is to go peacefully and in a place where you feel comfortable.

There is a reason Dog is God spelled backwards.

They both love us unconditionally.

My heart hurts. Massey is beyond devastated. Ham is her  boy. 

The only bad thing about having a dog is they never live long enough.

Ham, you dug the holes, jumped the trees and made our life better every step of your way.

We will never pass this way again, but Thank You, Ham for passing through our way while you could. 

Until next time...

COTTON