Officer Dribble RIP
Discussion
He was my first dog, a huge, awkwardly proportioned, wrinkly skinned, wilful and above all fabulous Basset. A rescue pedigree with the name "Officer Dribble" known less formally as Beau, Bibby or "stop that you sod" he came to live with us 3 years ago. From a life of being passed from person to person, foster homes and city homes he found a new life with us on a small holding with chickens to chase, pigs to bark at and geese to carefully avoid.
Beau loved my partner, Rachael, with never ending loyalty that one only seems to get from dogs he cemented a bond between himself and her of enormous strength.
Life has a habit of changing, of throwing curved balls or just generally messing with your pre-concieved notions of the directions you think it's going to take so after 2 years myself and Rachael split up and Beau went with her.
Yesterday I had a call, the whimsical ring tone completely unable to foretell and at odds with the the sadness, regret and anger that would take place over the following hours. Rachael was very upset, we'd not spoken for some time, and thus it was that my first contact with her in a long time was her saying "I need your help, I have to have Bibby put down, please come with me".
I'm sure I'll be appearing on Police, Camera, Action as my somewhat rapid journey to her home required some very liberal interpretation of the current prevailing traffic laws.
Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing Beau again; a broken animal, only 5 but looking 15, moving slowing, gasping for breath and coughing up blood streaked foam. This was the cruel fate, the unexpected turn that this poor animal's life had taken. A short period of illness starting innocously enough with the faintest of shivers about 2 months ago had reduced Beau to the shell of the animal that I'd once enjoyed long walks with, watched in dismay as he stole my spot on the sofa or chased my poor cat.
We drove to the vet in silence broken only by the belaboured breathing of Beau, I mean what do you say? How do you "chat" in a situation like that? I tried to be all grown up and "manly" as I discussed the options with the vet but we all knew there was only one kind, fair, appropriate way forward. The desire to not lose Beau tempered with the knowledge that to prolong his suffering for any longer than neccessary would seem an act of selfishness.
His passing was with dignity, a sedative ensuring that his final time with us was with as little stress as possible. I watched as the quadruple anaethestic overdose was injected and we both held him till the end. It was a peaceful, dignified process so utterly at odds with the obvious fear and distress he'd been in only minutes before.
I'm in that odd phase that one experiences following the death of a pet; relieved that we have a system that allows us to remove the pain and suffering of a loved animal but sad that he's gone. I experienced, what I sure many others have, that appalling sense of "impotency" when faced with the inevitable; that sense that no matter how much we know, how much money we could throw at it there is nothing that can be done.
I don't know that there's an easy way to close this so I'll end by saying; I salute you Officer Dribble - no one forgets their first!
Beau loved my partner, Rachael, with never ending loyalty that one only seems to get from dogs he cemented a bond between himself and her of enormous strength.
Life has a habit of changing, of throwing curved balls or just generally messing with your pre-concieved notions of the directions you think it's going to take so after 2 years myself and Rachael split up and Beau went with her.
Yesterday I had a call, the whimsical ring tone completely unable to foretell and at odds with the the sadness, regret and anger that would take place over the following hours. Rachael was very upset, we'd not spoken for some time, and thus it was that my first contact with her in a long time was her saying "I need your help, I have to have Bibby put down, please come with me".
I'm sure I'll be appearing on Police, Camera, Action as my somewhat rapid journey to her home required some very liberal interpretation of the current prevailing traffic laws.
Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing Beau again; a broken animal, only 5 but looking 15, moving slowing, gasping for breath and coughing up blood streaked foam. This was the cruel fate, the unexpected turn that this poor animal's life had taken. A short period of illness starting innocously enough with the faintest of shivers about 2 months ago had reduced Beau to the shell of the animal that I'd once enjoyed long walks with, watched in dismay as he stole my spot on the sofa or chased my poor cat.
We drove to the vet in silence broken only by the belaboured breathing of Beau, I mean what do you say? How do you "chat" in a situation like that? I tried to be all grown up and "manly" as I discussed the options with the vet but we all knew there was only one kind, fair, appropriate way forward. The desire to not lose Beau tempered with the knowledge that to prolong his suffering for any longer than neccessary would seem an act of selfishness.
His passing was with dignity, a sedative ensuring that his final time with us was with as little stress as possible. I watched as the quadruple anaethestic overdose was injected and we both held him till the end. It was a peaceful, dignified process so utterly at odds with the obvious fear and distress he'd been in only minutes before.
I'm in that odd phase that one experiences following the death of a pet; relieved that we have a system that allows us to remove the pain and suffering of a loved animal but sad that he's gone. I experienced, what I sure many others have, that appalling sense of "impotency" when faced with the inevitable; that sense that no matter how much we know, how much money we could throw at it there is nothing that can be done.
I don't know that there's an easy way to close this so I'll end by saying; I salute you Officer Dribble - no one forgets their first!
Anthony Micallef said:
Thats very sad 
I have a 6 year old Basset thats a complete pain in the arse but I know that Ill be upset when its his time for the big kennel in the sky.
Agree there. My old Basset 'Columbo' was my first dog. We had a real love hate relationship, but the day I done the deed I dont think I have never cried so much over a dog since. I have a 6 year old Basset thats a complete pain in the arse but I know that Ill be upset when its his time for the big kennel in the sky.He was just over 12 years old and collapsed in the garden and you just know that the time has come and I phoned the vet for them to have him PTS that day as I know if I left it then I could not do it.
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