Opinion: Farewell to a faithful friend

By Dave Price
Daily Post Editor

This week I’m going to skip my usual commentary about current events in our community and tell you a personal story. I’m not looking for any sympathy, but I thought writing about this might help people in a similar situation.

My faithful friend of the past eight years, Watson, died on Thursday. 

I really don’t know what breed he was because we got him at the rescue. Our best guess is German Shepherd and corgi. 

He loved his family and wanted to play. When nobody was around, I’d sometimes read him stories out of the newspaper. Often there would be this moment when I’d look at him and he’d cock his head to the side, as if to say “OK, is that it?”

When we adopted him, we were told his previous owner had named him Watson after Sherlock Holmes’ sidekick. But he was no sidekick. Watson was definitely the alpha dog. We have a smaller dog, a terrier named Pickles, who looked upon Watson as a parent or a big brother. Watson sometimes would grab Pickles’ leash with his mouth and walk him around.

The protector dog

Watson’s calling in life, however, was the protector of my family. He seldom barked. But a stranger set foot in our cul-de-sac, night or day, he would let out with a terrifying growl. We certainly never needed a gun or a home security system.

In the past year, we realized he was afflicted with arthritis, and it was growing worse. He used to jump into the car, with his tail wagging, ready for his next adventure. But in recent months, we had to give him a boost.

The arthritis became so crippling that, in the week before his death, he couldn’t lift himself off the floor. Surgery probably wouldn’t have solved the poor guy’s problems.

A difficult decision

After consultations with a veterinarian, my family decided unanimously — and through tears — that it was time to put down Watson. Allowing him to live this way was cruel.

Hours before bringing him to the vet’s office, we were instructed to give him Gabapentin to reduce the pain. He so badly wanted to please us, he would look up and try to smile. I reached out and tried to hug him, and I broke into tears.

At the vet’s office, they shaved a small portion of hair from his leg and injected an IV, through which they would administer a drug that would end his life.

One of the helpers at the vet’s office put a paper plate with small treats including five dabs of chocolate underneath Watson’s nose. Upon seeing it, my reaction was that he shouldn’t have chocolate. Then I realized it didn’t matter, he would be gone in just a few minutes. 

It took the drugs the vet administered about 5 minutes to end his life. She used a stethoscope to listen for his heart beating, then turned and said to me, my son and wife, “He’s died.” 

Since then, I’ve been thinking about why I loved Watson, why I love Pickles, and why I’ve loved so many other dogs in the past. They reflect the love and kindness you show to them. They want to please you and your family. They’re loyal. They’re brave. When you’re depressed, they’ll lick your face. Watson, I miss you, but I believe that one day we’ll be reunited.

Editor Dave Price’s column appears on Mondays. His email address is [email protected].