Today (7/30/97), PJ, my lhasa apso, passed away. He was 14.5
years. I know he led a full life, although I feel this emptiness inside
of me. It was a decision I had to make or else he would have suffered greatly.
He stopped eating 3 days ago and drinking water was too much of a chore
for him. He only drank because he wanted to live, but his body was rejecting
the water. He was still very alert mentally, but he suffered greatly physically.
About a month ago, he caught pneumonia and had indications of heart failure.
The pneumonia problem improved, and he was eating for a while--- even started
jumping back on my side of the bed to sleep. But his heart started to give
out on him (an enlarged valve). He spent so much energy trying to breathe
that he did not sleep for the past several days. I realized that the only
reason I would want to continue his going on the way he did was for my
own selfish reasons. His eyes kept telling me, "Please help me. I
will understand. I will always love you." I made an appointment. I
just remembered him not shaking and quivering at the vet, like he usually
did when he went for his shots and exams. He just breathed heavily, but
he was not scared. It seemed like he was ready. I sat in the exam room
and cried with him for a while--- telling him that I was sorry, but it
was the best thing for him. I told him to take care of me even when he's
gone. He seemed to have understood. The vet told me to hold his head and
let him see me. Although he has been blind for the past year, he was very
aware and looked at me. When the vet put the needle in him, he fought a
little, but his head fell out of my arms quietly. He stopped breathing.
His eyes were opened, but they looked happy. He had passed away with his
head between his front paws--- his usual position. I spent some more time
with him alone just telling him I love him. I guess I could have stayed
there forever, but I knew he was in a better place and would be taking
care of me from there. PJ was always a fighter. Back last November, he
developed such severe arthritis that he could not walk and would cry all
night. At that time, I thought he was ready to go. But he was stubborn
and put up a fight. (To the point that he would demand a biscuit after
he came in from the backyard--- like he usually did--- but he couldn't
walk to the kitchen to get it.) By January, he was walking fine. I knew
he wasn't willing to give in too easily.
Here are my wonderful memories of PJ:
PJ had been with me since Freshman year of college. He's moved seven times
with me- and in the summer of 1995, he drove with me all the way to Washington---
sneaking into motels with his friend, Raffles, and 2 bird companions. He
was my friend and companion in the loneliest of times.
Whenever I was sad and cried, he would check up on me every 10 minutes---
licking my tears, making sure I was okay. I remembered the first time he
learned how to sit on his hind legs and beg for treats. He would sit for
hours, hoping to get scrap of pizza crust or whatever junk food he was
craving for. We taught him to roll over and "give me five," and
play dead. When he didn't get a treat for doing a trick, he would do all
three tricks, hoping to get a treat.
|Sometimes, he would do many rollovers across the living room floor---
barking at us loudly-- to get that treat.
When I spent time overseas, I would send packages back to my family. PJ
loved to sit outside next to the boxes, smelling my scent. He would steal
my pillow by beating me to bed. He had a sense for the type of people I
should have dated or been friends with. Those he didn't like, he would
nip them at their heels--- these people all turned out to be people who
were never my true friends. He liked getting his back massaged, to the
point that he would self massage himself underneath a coffee table or recliner.
He was one funny dog and a great friend. I will miss him greatly. Have
fun wherever, you are, PJ and take care of us. We love you very much.
PacRimNW