Unfortunately, my first post isn’t too happy. My dog passed away this morning around 8:10, while we were waiting for the vet.
This is Benji’s story.
Once upon a time (except this is a true story so really: July 10th, 2000), a male Pomeranian was born. He was given to a man named Donald, and his wife. The old couple named him Benji…
And so his story began.
Benji lived with the old couple for 3 years, then the old woman was moved into an old folk’s home. That’s where my mom met her. For 6 more years Benji lived with and grew attached to the old man.
Friday, January 15th 2010, Donald had called his friend and neighbor, Wayne, to let him know he has put Benji outside and was getting ready for bed. (Why he would call to say that, I have no idea.) Wayne thought nothing of it.
Then Wayne called Donald on Saturday, to chat with his buddy. But there was no answer. Wayne’s wife said he must just be out, so they didn’t think about it anymore.
Wayne tried to call Donald again, on Sunday, but there was still no answer. Wayne got worried so he decided to physically go over to Donald’s house.
That’s when he found the old man dead on the floor and the poor old dog outside… in Canada’s winter cold… where he had been for a day and a half… with no food, and no water, and no shelter. (He couldn’t even lick the snow because it was covered in a thick sheet of ice.)
Then a lot of things happened, as generally happens when someone dies, but finally Steven, Donald’s only child, executively decided to give Benji to a nice family, so we took the cutie.
On Sunday, January 24th, Benji came to our house after a week at Wayne’s and he was very confused and stressed so he ate a lot, and drank a lot, and peed a lot… but we loved him so it didn’t matter.
On Monday, we decided it would be prudent to take our new pet to the vet. We did, and we didn’t get too much great news.
Benji had an ingrown toenail, the likes of which, the vet had never seen before. It had grown out and curled around over 360°, going back into the foot, and poking out again. He needed a minor surgery immediately. On top of this infection and strange nail, he had a lot of bladder stones, and diabetes. At least his teeth were really good for an old Pomeranian. And he was really calm.
We decided not to put him into surgery. We would try to treat the diabetes as best we could and we would keep him happy while he lived out the rest of whatever life God had left for him.
The little guy was ours, and Dasha (our first dog) would just have to get used to him.
Now, he’s dead. Yesterday he was acting funny, we thought it might be a one day thing (he’s had those before) and we thought the intense heat might have made it worse too. He was bleeding more than usual (from the bladder stones) and we hoped he wasn’t in any pain. My dad left for work and when I came upstairs out of the basement I saw too much blood to just clean it up quietly. My mom and brother got up and helped with the little guy, got him cleaned up and made a little bed for him. This morning, he was surrounded in blood again, literally a blonde lump with blood soaked legs sticking out, and we rushed him to the vet as soon as we could. He lost so much blood.
In the car he was convulsing and shuddering.
He wasn’t moving his back legs and he couldn’t control his tongue.
We brought him in and said we think it might be time… I cradled him in my arms while we waited for the vet, and he died on the bench in the waiting room.
The picture was taken on June 18th, 2011. It is one of the most recent we have. This is my first loss.