It was just another day.
I got up at 5 AM. Cowboy was in his usual spot at the bottom of the stairs (protecting the upper floor of course). When I opened the bedroom door, he made his way up the stairs to take his daily, morning position, laying next to the bed on "mom's side". You see, she, and only she let's him out in the morning, while making coffee. I offered (as everyday) to let him go outside, which he, like every day, ignored and in his own way said; "sorry dude, mom let's me out".
Fast forward to early afternoon.
All is well, especially when Cowboy see's the piece of steak I put in his bowl.. "yeehaaww" he said (in so many words).
A little later, he get's a bath... a good brushing, and plays around in the back yard (probably looking for some deer poop to roll in to get rid of that nasty shampoo smell).
Then all the sudden, he just kinda lays down, pays no attention to anything... even the best, most loving calls I can muster. 10 minutes or so go by, we call the vet. By then I knew it was too late, there was a look in his eyes that said it, I knew he wouldn't make the trip. He didn't. They don't know what caused it, a blood clot, an aneurysm, are suggestions.
My best buddy of 10 years. It's amazing to me the pain that comes from losing a "pet". To my family, he was the perfect dog. He never ran off, even with no fence. He knew what "his yard" was. He learned every dog trick in the book in a matter of days. He'd sit there with a piece of cheese balanced on his nose until he was told he could get it. I kid you not, he's sit there for an hour if that's what it took (I'm guessing of course, 2-3 minutes is the longest I had the heart to make him go).
He protected his house and family, but loved everyone that was invited in.
He was there for me, no matter what. Bad mood, good mood, even while doing taxes. If he thought I was in a bad mood, he'd just walk-up, put his head in my lap and "say"; "it's all good dad, you've got me".
He'd chase the stick like there was no tomorrow, bring it back and drop it at my feet and say "again please!"
He'd sit patiently to go get the stick I threw, If I told him to stay.
He would never tear-up a stuffed animal, even though it was his.
He pooped in the house exactly ONCE.
He peed in the house exactly ONCE.
He'd sit in my lap, on his back and put his face in my neck. An 90lb lap dog.
He never chewed a shoe, piece of clothing or anything else we own.
He did chew a hole in the laundry room wall when he was 6 months old.
He did like to get dirty socks out of the laundry and deposit them around the house (never chewing them up however)
He always stayed close to someone that was either sick, or frail. Somehow, he knew they were vulnerable.. or something. He “walked” my late Grandmother around the house, following slowly, just making sure she got where ever it was she was going.
He'd get the paper. I never did train him to get the Bud Light however.
The best thing about Cowboy? He was happy. We are believers in positive reinforcement when it comes to training a dog. He was never hit in his life, all it ever took was a firm voice if he did something wrong. All he ever wanted was to please. He was a fun loving, gentle animal that everyone loved. He had a perpetual smile on his face.
I could, as could most other lovers of their animals, go on for days here, but won't.
I'm thankful that he never suffered from age, he was as fit as a dog could be... he ran, he played, right up to the very end and he went fast. He was never taken for granted; he was enjoyed every day of his 10 years. He was a big part of our everyday lives and will be missed so much.
I've got to tell ya, a friend like that dying in your arms is not a good thing. I keep telling myself that my family (like so many others) has suffered through SO much worse; he's "just a dog". Somehow, while this doesn't come close to the losses we can all go through, it's s a lot tougher than I imagined.
So anyway, thanks for letting me babble...
Thanks Cowdog.
I got up at 5 AM. Cowboy was in his usual spot at the bottom of the stairs (protecting the upper floor of course). When I opened the bedroom door, he made his way up the stairs to take his daily, morning position, laying next to the bed on "mom's side". You see, she, and only she let's him out in the morning, while making coffee. I offered (as everyday) to let him go outside, which he, like every day, ignored and in his own way said; "sorry dude, mom let's me out".
Fast forward to early afternoon.
All is well, especially when Cowboy see's the piece of steak I put in his bowl.. "yeehaaww" he said (in so many words).
A little later, he get's a bath... a good brushing, and plays around in the back yard (probably looking for some deer poop to roll in to get rid of that nasty shampoo smell).
Then all the sudden, he just kinda lays down, pays no attention to anything... even the best, most loving calls I can muster. 10 minutes or so go by, we call the vet. By then I knew it was too late, there was a look in his eyes that said it, I knew he wouldn't make the trip. He didn't. They don't know what caused it, a blood clot, an aneurysm, are suggestions.
My best buddy of 10 years. It's amazing to me the pain that comes from losing a "pet". To my family, he was the perfect dog. He never ran off, even with no fence. He knew what "his yard" was. He learned every dog trick in the book in a matter of days. He'd sit there with a piece of cheese balanced on his nose until he was told he could get it. I kid you not, he's sit there for an hour if that's what it took (I'm guessing of course, 2-3 minutes is the longest I had the heart to make him go).
He protected his house and family, but loved everyone that was invited in.
He was there for me, no matter what. Bad mood, good mood, even while doing taxes. If he thought I was in a bad mood, he'd just walk-up, put his head in my lap and "say"; "it's all good dad, you've got me".
He'd chase the stick like there was no tomorrow, bring it back and drop it at my feet and say "again please!"
He'd sit patiently to go get the stick I threw, If I told him to stay.
He would never tear-up a stuffed animal, even though it was his.
He pooped in the house exactly ONCE.
He peed in the house exactly ONCE.
He'd sit in my lap, on his back and put his face in my neck. An 90lb lap dog.
He never chewed a shoe, piece of clothing or anything else we own.
He did chew a hole in the laundry room wall when he was 6 months old.
He did like to get dirty socks out of the laundry and deposit them around the house (never chewing them up however)
He always stayed close to someone that was either sick, or frail. Somehow, he knew they were vulnerable.. or something. He “walked” my late Grandmother around the house, following slowly, just making sure she got where ever it was she was going.
He'd get the paper. I never did train him to get the Bud Light however.
The best thing about Cowboy? He was happy. We are believers in positive reinforcement when it comes to training a dog. He was never hit in his life, all it ever took was a firm voice if he did something wrong. All he ever wanted was to please. He was a fun loving, gentle animal that everyone loved. He had a perpetual smile on his face.
I could, as could most other lovers of their animals, go on for days here, but won't.
I'm thankful that he never suffered from age, he was as fit as a dog could be... he ran, he played, right up to the very end and he went fast. He was never taken for granted; he was enjoyed every day of his 10 years. He was a big part of our everyday lives and will be missed so much.
I've got to tell ya, a friend like that dying in your arms is not a good thing. I keep telling myself that my family (like so many others) has suffered through SO much worse; he's "just a dog". Somehow, while this doesn't come close to the losses we can all go through, it's s a lot tougher than I imagined.
So anyway, thanks for letting me babble...
Thanks Cowdog.
