Brodie

Brodie came into my life about six years ago when he was two. I lived in an apartment on the other side of town and used to walk my little shih-tzu every day, rain or shine. Someone saw me and called to say they were getting married and had a bulldog, pitbull and another little shih-tzu who did not get along with the bigger  dogs. Would I take him?

I said no. Shih-tzus are high maintenance little dogs and I didn't think I could afford two, so I called my sister and she decided  to adopt him.

Right off the bat it became apparent that he had some peculiarities.  He peed on furniture, shed and was a little jumpy. We think he might have been mauled at some point, but my sister fell in love with him and he stayed.

Later, when I couldn't get up and down the steps to take my dog out, she adopted him too.  I paid the grooming and vet bills till last year to help out.

Today I drove my sister and Brodie to my old vet in a small town nearby. They had an appointment and I was along just to help out. Brodie had sores all over his body that would not heal. Some were open and raw. Others were like fissures, but none would go away no matter what they did. Brodie would dig at his skin and chew out big bloody holes. He began peeing blood and we were there to put him down.

My sister couldn't do it, so she paid the vet and went outside. I held Brodie while they gave him a post op shot then they left us alone in a small room. He sat on my lap a while, then wanted to get down and walk around, so I let him. A few minutes later he looked like a tired puppy.  His eyes were droopy and he was listing to the side. I picked him back up and he snuggled into my lap and fell asleep. He drooled a lot, but he was very relaxed and in no pain. When I whispered to him and scratched his ears, or patted his back,. his tail wagged a bit at first. The he was sound asleep.

I stood up and put him on the pad of towels on the table and continued to pet him and talk to him just in case. I looked up and read this poem:

he Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done,
For this — the last battle — can't be won.
You will be sad I understand,
But don't let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.
We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please, let me go.
Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don't grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do;
We've been so close — we two — these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.
— Unknown

The vet returned and gave him another small shot to stop his heart.  He never flinched, or even breathed hard. His little tongue just slipped out of his mouth and he was instantly gone.  It was very sad, but very peaceful and I'm glad I stayed with him.