We’ve always had rescue dogs in our household. Three years ago, we visited a shelter with the intention of bringing home an adult lap dog who needed a loving family–older dogs often get overlooked for adoption in favor of puppies.
All the pets at the shelter were barking, with the exception of one. This lonesome pet just stood and watched us as we inspected each cage. Eventually, we arrived at her kennel where she again stared intently at us. I mentioned to my companion how beautiful this animal was; though unfortunately, she was too large for our needs.”
They led us out to the patio and asked who we wanted to see first. After I told him a name, they brought the corresponding dog out, but it barely paid any attention to us.
So they asked if there was anyone else we wanted to meet and for some inexplicable reason, I said Quill. As soon as she walked up to me and laid her head in my lap, I fell head-over-heels. It didn’t take long for my husband to notice how joyous I was becoming with each additional second that passed too; he looked at me from across the way and then stated plainly: “Okay.” And just like that–we left their home with a new Doberman (that wasn’t going fulfill our ‘lap dog’ criteria).
When her owner passed away, the dog was only seven. We had her for three and a half years, but they were undoubtedly the best.
There was a tear in one of her legs, so we took her to see an orthopedic doctor. He said that there wasn’t anything that could be done other than continuing to walk with her every day. Fortunately, my husband already did this frequently anyway.
When her leg started deteriorating to the point where she couldn’t even get into cars anymore, he made a ramp that he would take out each time he wanted to bring her somewhere fun. Despite how difficult it became for him–and despite how much pain our pup must have been going through–he never complained once.
She loved him dearly; you could tell by way of all the kisses she showered upon him constantly throughout each day when they were together. Eventually, it got too tough for her to step up onto couches like before–so what did my lovely husband do? He built another wooden ramp and carpeted it just like before (only this time bigger).
She was beautiful, inside and out. We only had a short time with her, but we loved every minute. When she was ready to go, she stopped eating because that was her way of telling us that it hurt too much for her to keep going.
It was difficult when she left us, but we knew she had to go. She was an amazing person.
(h/t: theanimalrescuesite)