Toby: Gone One Year Today

Most people think that their pet is the most unique of anyone else's. I'm no different. My dog Toby was special and unique, and now he's gone. He died one year ago today at 14 years of age. I had to have him euthanized. I haven't been able to write much about him because it was so painful. It's a little easier now.

I had a vet who makes house calls come to my house when I discovered that Toby had great difficulty holding up his hind legs when using the bathroom. I could tell it was so humiliating for him when I had to clean him. I knew when he could no longer function on his own that it was time to have him put to sleep.

My wish was for him to die on his own, but every time I felt he was failing and would die soon, he would rally, start eating, and get stronger. That's how things went for few months. I noticed he was eating less and less and then finally hardly eating anything at all. It amazed me how he could survive on so little. But he was losing weight rapidly. He kept up his daily routine--barking at people passing, dogs being walked, and howling when he heard the sirens from police cars or fire engines.

He also played with his squeaky toys everyday. I was amazed that he would keep to the beat on the music on the radio or he would create his own music. I would say that he was playing his "concertos." He would entertain me everyday, right up to the day of his death. He had one special toy that I called Mr. Beethoven.

You see, Toby was suppose to die years earlier. He had a major stroke when he was 8. I was trying to put on his harness for our weekly trek and he jumped on the bed as I instructed him to. He was so excited and was squirming. As I was trying to snap it into place, he slumped off the bed to the floor. He started convulsing. Then he just laid there and didn't move. He couldn't get up. My neighbor had to carry him to the car for me.

The vet said that if he didn't regain the use of his legs or was not able to use the bathroom, I should probably consider euthanizing him. I couldn't accept that. I took him home (I found the strength to carry him). I laid out lots of comforters on the living room floor and I slept with him the first night, hugging him all night. He would lick me. My kitten Kelley laid with us too. (They had a special bond, but that's a story for another time.) As the days passed, I could feel that Toby would fight to get better. I carried him to the back yard and we all laid down to enjoy the chirping birds and the sunshine. He crawled away from the blanket so he could pee. Late at night, he would crawl to the kitchen to urinate instead of peeing on the blankets or on the carpet. Days later I could tell he was stronger. He was determined to go the front yard, which had two steps. It took him a long time, but he crawled to the top of the steps and slid down. So smart!

The vet was surprised at his progress. He recommended physical therapy at another facility, but I declined, not only because of the cost, but because I knew that Toby could not tolerate long car rides. (He had many fears and riding in a car was one of them. He had been dumped from a car and abandoned when he was 4 months old. Some neighborhood kids brought him to me because they knew I had put my dog Gema to sleep when her cancer had returned. It was evident that Toby had been an abused puppy.)

I devised Toby's therapy to strengthen his legs. He became stronger and his walking improved. The vet commended me. He said, "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it." Toby's gait was never the same and our long walks were now out, but most people could never tell he had had a stroke. He was my hero!

He took such good care of me for 14 years. We went through so much together. He was in tune to my emotions and always knew when I needed to be comforted, especially when my sister Becky died. He was my constant companion. A big hole was left in my heart when Toby died. I miss his companionship and his beautiful concertos.

Even though I got another dog (Desi) a few weeks after Toby died, nothing replaces him. I still miss him, even after a year. There is no timetable to grief. I will always honor his memory. He left me with so many stories to tell!