Best Buddies

JM and Newman were the best buddies. They grew up together, JM was one year younger than Newman. 

 

Anyone who knew and loved JM knows he’s been anxious his whole life. Change of any kind was very upsetting to him. If I moved furniture to mop, he’d hide in my room; he was afraid of loud noise and would shake uncontrollably; If we had people over, it would take days for him to fully relax and not check around the corner each time he walked into a new room. The past four months I had him on CBD oil and I could see it was helping a little. He also suffered from hearing loss, cognitive decline, and was beginning to lose control of his body: sometimes he’d slip, trip, or fall while trying to lay down or go up the stairs. We used sign language for some basic commands. He suffered from severe separation anxiety and on days I’d go to the office, he’d cling to me the whole night and next day. I miss that slobbery asshole. He was an innocent, scared puppy in a grown dog body. 

 

And last week he had a really bad week. There were landscapers next door with loud machines and a mini-crane. I went to the office two days last week. We had a birthday party with several people. It was trauma after trauma.

Those traumas and issues culminated in the worst way on Thursday when Newman ran for water coming from the hose, and JM jumped off the deck and clamped onto his head.

 

I couldn’t break them apart for over a minute. It was horrible and scary and my screams actually injured my throat. I thought Newman was dead. I ran to the sink and rinsed him off and rushed Newman to the ER. He had several puncture wounds and what I learned later, a torn trachea.

 

All things considered, it could have been worse. Much, much worse. 

Over the next two days I had to make choices and decisions no one ever wants to make; I had to help my girls understand those decisions. I felt guilt and remorse and played the ‘what if’ game way too many times. I talked to our vet for 45 minutes on Thursday and another 30 minutes on Friday. He reassured me I was doing the right thing. He told me not to feel guilty. I adore my vet.

 

It remains the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make. 

 

I don’t have my JM anymore, but I get some more time with this little trooper. He’s straight up boss level resilient. He was in surgery for two hours; He’s got three drain tubes, six prescriptions, and no less than 70 stitches. He’s a goddam stud. And I’m lucky and thankful to have him.