Had to Put My Dog to Sleep
'Bomber' Well, it was in August, 2007, when I had to put old 'Bomber' down to 'sleep'.
He was a big dog, a mastiff cross, and looked a bit like a rhodesian ridgeback in shape, with a beautiful slim head, and with loving and ever humble brown eyes, that would look into mine, for what seemed like hours, sometimes.
He lived to the ripe old age of 15, in human year's.
So Bomber was an 'old age pensioner' in his last year's, but always up for a walk and a bit of a run daily, at his own carefree pace.
I find it easier to write about him now, as time has passed, and I remember him very fondly, always with a smile, but still with a little tear.
He was my best mate for those 15 year's, and boy, what adventures we had! He absolutely loved the ocean, and running after me into the surf was one of his favourite thing's.
I would try to swim out into the open sea, to swim for a couple of kilometres, because just like Bomber, I also love to swim, The trouble was, he would follow me to the end of the earth! I'd tell him to 'stay', and to wait for me onshore, but the crashing of the waves, and the thrill of the water was all too exciting! Even friend's on the beach couldn't hold him back from bolting after me once he saw and heard that big, wild, and exciting roar of the sea.
Then of course, there were the times when he just didn't know his own strength, or realise his body size.
He was a very obedient dog, but sometimes it was all too much excitement if someone he knew was walking in the street, or would approach to greet us.
I remember being out for a walk in a local park, and the elderly neighbour, who needed a walking stick, was bowled off his feet as Bomber bounced up to greet him, and then slobbering all over his face licking him, as he picked himself up! Fortunately the gentleman knew and loved Bomber, and there were no broken bones! Bomber was gentle, but didn't quite realise his size, I think.
Of course, over our 15 year's together, Bomber and I had mostly good times, but in the full and rich experience of this thing called life, we also went through some hard times together.
The unexpected death of my girlfriend in 1999, who was also the mother of our first and only son, who tragically did not survive his birth, in 1997.
These experiences ripped me apart, understandably, and through the grieving and recovery period, my best mate Bomber was always there, right by my side.
Dog's know when you're down emotionally, as many dog owner's would know, and often he'd come up to me while I was sitting on the couch reflecting, and rest his chin on my lap, tail wagging, as if to say, 'C'mon Greg, cheer up buddy, I know it's tough, but you've still got me'..
..
..
..
That is one of the many memories I cherish from our time together.
I first met Bomber at the 'Lost dog's home' here in Melbourne, Australia.
A great organisation that takes in stray dog's (and cat's) and puppies, and put's them up for adoption to the general public.
Sadly, many of the older dog's I saw there that were lost or abandoned, are only kept for 8 day's if they haven't been adopted by then, as the home just doesn't have the capacity to keep them for much longer.
(So folk's, if I may ask you, please consider rescuing an animal from such a place in your city, rather than buying privately.
) I went there on a whim, not really knowing if I wanted a dog or not, but I had been thinking about it.
Well, I went to the 'puppy adoption' area, and there were around 7-10 puppies, in their separate holding pen's.
I walked back and forth saying hello to all of the little angel's, but one stood out from the pack.
And this was Bomber.
He was 2 months old when I got him, and it was just the humble and grateful way he would greet me every time I walked up to his pen, that I couldn't resist.
Ear's back, tail wagging wildly, I had to take him home with me, and I did.
The veterinary assistant pointed out a huge scar on his rear paw that was well healed, but looked as if it had been severed when he was a few weeks old.
The nurse asked me if I wished to reconsider, as Bomber may develop arthritis, (I discovered canned fish- sardines, mackerel, salmon, all with no bones, later in his life helped with arthritis/stiff joints) or complications with his paw later on.
I thanked her for this information, but there was no way I was leaving this gorgeous puppy now.
He'd won my heart! But life is good now.
We must allow ourselves time and space to grieve, and reflect, and these memories I will always cherish, and honour, and celebrate.
Because there is lot's to celebrate, and I feel that I am a richer person for it all.
Rest in peace, my old friend.
Greg
He was a big dog, a mastiff cross, and looked a bit like a rhodesian ridgeback in shape, with a beautiful slim head, and with loving and ever humble brown eyes, that would look into mine, for what seemed like hours, sometimes.
He lived to the ripe old age of 15, in human year's.
So Bomber was an 'old age pensioner' in his last year's, but always up for a walk and a bit of a run daily, at his own carefree pace.
I find it easier to write about him now, as time has passed, and I remember him very fondly, always with a smile, but still with a little tear.
He was my best mate for those 15 year's, and boy, what adventures we had! He absolutely loved the ocean, and running after me into the surf was one of his favourite thing's.
I would try to swim out into the open sea, to swim for a couple of kilometres, because just like Bomber, I also love to swim, The trouble was, he would follow me to the end of the earth! I'd tell him to 'stay', and to wait for me onshore, but the crashing of the waves, and the thrill of the water was all too exciting! Even friend's on the beach couldn't hold him back from bolting after me once he saw and heard that big, wild, and exciting roar of the sea.
Then of course, there were the times when he just didn't know his own strength, or realise his body size.
He was a very obedient dog, but sometimes it was all too much excitement if someone he knew was walking in the street, or would approach to greet us.
I remember being out for a walk in a local park, and the elderly neighbour, who needed a walking stick, was bowled off his feet as Bomber bounced up to greet him, and then slobbering all over his face licking him, as he picked himself up! Fortunately the gentleman knew and loved Bomber, and there were no broken bones! Bomber was gentle, but didn't quite realise his size, I think.
Of course, over our 15 year's together, Bomber and I had mostly good times, but in the full and rich experience of this thing called life, we also went through some hard times together.
The unexpected death of my girlfriend in 1999, who was also the mother of our first and only son, who tragically did not survive his birth, in 1997.
These experiences ripped me apart, understandably, and through the grieving and recovery period, my best mate Bomber was always there, right by my side.
Dog's know when you're down emotionally, as many dog owner's would know, and often he'd come up to me while I was sitting on the couch reflecting, and rest his chin on my lap, tail wagging, as if to say, 'C'mon Greg, cheer up buddy, I know it's tough, but you've still got me'..
..
..
..
That is one of the many memories I cherish from our time together.
I first met Bomber at the 'Lost dog's home' here in Melbourne, Australia.
A great organisation that takes in stray dog's (and cat's) and puppies, and put's them up for adoption to the general public.
Sadly, many of the older dog's I saw there that were lost or abandoned, are only kept for 8 day's if they haven't been adopted by then, as the home just doesn't have the capacity to keep them for much longer.
(So folk's, if I may ask you, please consider rescuing an animal from such a place in your city, rather than buying privately.
) I went there on a whim, not really knowing if I wanted a dog or not, but I had been thinking about it.
Well, I went to the 'puppy adoption' area, and there were around 7-10 puppies, in their separate holding pen's.
I walked back and forth saying hello to all of the little angel's, but one stood out from the pack.
And this was Bomber.
He was 2 months old when I got him, and it was just the humble and grateful way he would greet me every time I walked up to his pen, that I couldn't resist.
Ear's back, tail wagging wildly, I had to take him home with me, and I did.
The veterinary assistant pointed out a huge scar on his rear paw that was well healed, but looked as if it had been severed when he was a few weeks old.
The nurse asked me if I wished to reconsider, as Bomber may develop arthritis, (I discovered canned fish- sardines, mackerel, salmon, all with no bones, later in his life helped with arthritis/stiff joints) or complications with his paw later on.
I thanked her for this information, but there was no way I was leaving this gorgeous puppy now.
He'd won my heart! But life is good now.
We must allow ourselves time and space to grieve, and reflect, and these memories I will always cherish, and honour, and celebrate.
Because there is lot's to celebrate, and I feel that I am a richer person for it all.
Rest in peace, my old friend.
Greg
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