I’m currently sitting in an otherwise empty examination room at a local vet. At the moment, I have a really old dog and a really old cat. I’m about to have one fewer by the time I post this.
A few months ago I searched for local vets and don’t remember this place coming up as an option. I made a request for in-home euthanasia for the dog and an appointment at a different vet for the cat. After healing an ear infection, a sore on his mouth, and removing almost all of his remaining teeth, the cat is thriving. The in-home specialist never returned my messages about the dog. His conditions did not improve.
Judge, our little buddy, was discovered on the street by a friend while our families were out walking. We had found an iPhone, dead bird, and some old toys earlier on the walk. Then she spotted Judge. I squatted down and he jumped into my arms. No one else on the street paid us any mind. Seven people asking, “Is this anyone’s dog?” So we took the tiny, smelly dog home.
I gave him a bath and took him to the vet. They said they’d seen worse. His undescended testicle was not a sign of cancer then, but here we are now with a pair of tumors in the end.
Someone trained him to walk nicely. He was super calm when meeting new dogs and loved meeting people who spoke in sweet voices. But he also loved to hide and did not want to play. I used to say he needed another dog to help teach him how to be a dog.
He lived most of his life in a playpen to be sure we knew where he was but to also give him the security of a tiny space. It wasn’t that small—like 4 square feet. He had two beds and a dining section. He alternated which bed he felt like using to bury himself under his stuffies.
The vet offered him Hershey Kisses after his IV was in place. I’ve never seen a dog go after chocolate the way Judge did in that moment. It was like foreshadowing he’s going to be a chocolatier in his next life.
You’re a good boy, Judge.
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