Letting a beloved pet go is never easy for any owner, but we veterinarians also experience loss in this process. Earlier this summer, I helped a dog that I've know for years as a neighbor and friend of Cardiff's to transition out of this world.
Viking was a senior, German Shepherd Dog who led a high quality of life until his final weeks.
Here’s Viking's memorial as written by his human mom:
How do I eulogize in words the perfect soul of my dog who is spiritually connected to the universe in ways that I will never understand?I first laid eyes upon Viking in the fall of 2003, three months after I started volunteering at German Shepherd Rescue, Burbank. I wasn’t committed to adopting a dog, but thought if the right dog presented itself, then perhaps.Immediately, I noticed Viking was different from the other dogs at the Rescue: not just his coloring but that he was sad and hid in his igloo; that he didn’t bark when someone walked by his kennel; that he whimpered and resisted when put back in his kennel after being taken out; and that he knew how to play and would engage on that level.I hemmed and hawed for 6 weeks until one day, potential adopters met him and another dog; they were going to come back the next day with a decision. It was now or never, so while not prepared, I took the leap. He did as well. I’ve never seen a dog jump into a strange car so quickly, as if saying, “let’s get the hell outta here!”His prior owners had abandoned Viking, so he became my “Velcro dog” only after a few days. He exhibited symptoms of PTSD and I surmised he had been abused. It took him over 9 months to bark, and well over a year to wag his tail. But once he felt secure, his personality came out full fold. He was obsessed with food, and would wake me up in the middle of the night to ask for more! He loved squirrels, tennis balls and going to the park. He hated water - especially sprinklers, and would bolt the second before the water turned on. As much as he didn’t want to leave my side, he wasn’t affectionate and refused to cuddle. When I attempted, he would give a distasteful grunt, get up and walk away. He was completely disinterested in people (exceptions: me, & if someone had a treat) and we were able to help many people get over their fear of dogs because he would ignore them.He was my constant companion, and I took him most everywhere. I have a two-seat convertible so he rode shotgun; when stopped at a light, people talked to him and tourists took pictures. While running errands, he soon realized there were treats behind counters (the bank, the jeweler, various stores), and he would never forget a location that provided him with food. Viking accompanied me to work every day for 8 years, at two different agencies. He became a certified therapy dog, and he served his role very well with the emotionally disturbed kids with whom I worked. They didn’t need him to be affectionate – they just needed him to play with them. Many of the kids when angry or upset would ask their therapist if they could spend time with Viking, and he was always available to heal their inner wounds, if only temporarily.Viking was nosey beyond belief; investigating is a German Shepherd trait, but he took it to the hilt, and wanted to enter every doorway he walked past. He loved going underneath houses for some reason (little animals?) and on two occasions, “vanished” without a trace while in enclosed backyards – turns out went under through open crawl spaces and promptly got stuck. He managed to lodge himself on the wrong side of a second floor balcony railing – it took 20 minutes, 5 people and food to get him back safely to the other side. He once got locked inside a gated and walled off piece of property. Twice, he almost jumped off the roof at work because he heard me in the yard below: the window in my 2nd floor office opened to the roof, and he would jump through the window and look down for me. I had to scamper up the side of the house while co-workers ran up to my office with food in order to prevent him from jumping. Good times.Devilish, yet handsome. My aunt always said he looked as if looked as if he had eyeliner on, and declared for him, “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.” He didn’t look his age despite the maladies that affected him in his later years. Until the end, he ate voraciously and urged me forward on walks (& on his last 2 days, tried to explore underneath houses again!) - all the while with his back legs being held up with a special harness, and a front leg that would collapse several times during walks.Per an animal communicator, he wanted to go out with dignity, and before he started to decline further, which was happening rapidly. Patrick was not Viking’s veterinarian, but he and his partner Phil, and their dog Cardiff were our neighbors, and they knew him well. Thus, I asked if Patrick would do the honors of putting him down, which he graciously did. I am forever grateful for him agreeing to do this, and for Phil being there with Cardiff.My days were centered around Viking, and the void left in the wake of his demise is practically unbearable. Every day I wish, like a child, for him to magically return to this earth. Then I remember the old saying, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Note to self: forgo birthday candles.Not counting food, I was Viking’s world; but as a human being, he was only a portion of mine, albeit, a large one. And now, I constantly hear Joni Mitchell in my head: “don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” Viking was my best friend; but I didn’t know it until after he passed.I promise to make it up to you, Viking, when we reunite at Rainbow Bridge.
Although Viking is no longer walking with us, he’ll never be forgotten.
Have you elected to put a beloved pet to sleep? Feel free to share your experience in the comments section.
Thank you for reading this article. Your questions and comments are completely welcome.
Please feel free to communicate with me through Twitter (@PatrickMahaney) and follow my adventures in veterinary medicine by liking Patrick Mahaney: Veterinarian Acupuncture Pain Management for Your Pets on Facebook.
Copyright of this article (2015) is owned by Dr Patrick Mahaney, Veterinarian and Certified Veterinary Acupuncturist. Republishing any portion of this article must first be authorized by Dr Patrick Mahaney. Requests for republishing must be approved by Dr Patrick Mahaney and received in written format.
Letting a beloved pet go is never easy for any owner, but we veterinarians also experience loss in this process. Earlier this summer, I helped a dog that I've know for years as a neighbor and friend of Cardiff's to transition out of this world.
Viking was a senior, German Shepherd Dog who led a high quality of life until his final weeks.
Here’s Viking's memorial as written by his human mom:
How do I eulogize in words the perfect soul of my dog who is spiritually connected to the universe in ways that I will never understand?
I first laid eyes upon Viking in the fall of 2003, three months after I started volunteering at German Shepherd Rescue, Burbank. I wasn’t committed to adopting a dog, but thought if the right dog presented itself, then perhaps.
Immediately, I noticed Viking was different from the other dogs at the Rescue: not just his coloring but that he was sad and hid in his igloo; that he didn’t bark when someone walked by his kennel; that he whimpered and resisted when put back in his kennel after being taken out; and that he knew how to play and would engage on that level.
I hemmed and hawed for 6 weeks until one day, potential adopters met him and another dog; they were going to come back the next day with a decision. It was now or never, so while not prepared, I took the leap. He did as well. I’ve never seen a dog jump into a strange car so quickly, as if saying, “let’s get the hell outta here!”
His prior owners had abandoned Viking, so he became my “Velcro dog” only after a few days. He exhibited symptoms of PTSD and I surmised he had been abused. It took him over 9 months to bark, and well over a year to wag his tail. But once he felt secure, his personality came out full fold. He was obsessed with food, and would wake me up in the middle of the night to ask for more! He loved squirrels, tennis balls and going to the park. He hated water - especially sprinklers, and would bolt the second before the water turned on. As much as he didn’t want to leave my side, he wasn’t affectionate and refused to cuddle. When I attempted, he would give a distasteful grunt, get up and walk away. He was completely disinterested in people (exceptions: me, & if someone had a treat) and we were able to help many people get over their fear of dogs because he would ignore them.
He was my constant companion, and I took him most everywhere. I have a two-seat convertible so he rode shotgun; when stopped at a light, people talked to him and tourists took pictures. While running errands, he soon realized there were treats behind counters (the bank, the jeweler, various stores), and he would never forget a location that provided him with food.
Viking accompanied me to work every day for 8 years, at two different agencies. He became a certified therapy dog, and he served his role very well with the emotionally disturbed kids with whom I worked. They didn’t need him to be affectionate – they just needed him to play with them. Many of the kids when angry or upset would ask their therapist if they could spend time with Viking, and he was always available to heal their inner wounds, if only temporarily.
Viking was nosey beyond belief; investigating is a German Shepherd trait, but he took it to the hilt, and wanted to enter every doorway he walked past. He loved going underneath houses for some reason (little animals?) and on two occasions, “vanished” without a trace while in enclosed backyards – turns out went under through open crawl spaces and promptly got stuck. He managed to lodge himself on the wrong side of a second floor balcony railing – it took 20 minutes, 5 people and food to get him back safely to the other side. He once got locked inside a gated and walled off piece of property. Twice, he almost jumped off the roof at work because he heard me in the yard below: the window in my 2nd floor office opened to the roof, and he would jump through the window and look down for me. I had to scamper up the side of the house while co-workers ran up to my office with food in order to prevent him from jumping. Good times.
Devilish, yet handsome. My aunt always said he looked as if looked as if he had eyeliner on, and declared for him, “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.” He didn’t look his age despite the maladies that affected him in his later years. Until the end, he ate voraciously and urged me forward on walks (& on his last 2 days, tried to explore underneath houses again!) - all the while with his back legs being held up with a special harness, and a front leg that would collapse several times during walks.
Per an animal communicator, he wanted to go out with dignity, and before he started to decline further, which was happening rapidly. Patrick was not Viking’s veterinarian, but he and his partner Phil, and their dog Cardiff were our neighbors, and they knew him well. Thus, I asked if Patrick would do the honors of putting him down, which he graciously did. I am forever grateful for him agreeing to do this, and for Phil being there with Cardiff.
My days were centered around Viking, and the void left in the wake of his demise is practically unbearable. Every day I wish, like a child, for him to magically return to this earth. Then I remember the old saying, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Note to self: forgo birthday candles.
Not counting food, I was Viking’s world; but as a human being, he was only a portion of mine, albeit, a large one. And now, I constantly hear Joni Mitchell in my head: “don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” Viking was my best friend; but I didn’t know it until after he passed.
I promise to make it up to you, Viking, when we reunite at Rainbow Bridge.
Although Viking is no longer walking with us, he’ll never be forgotten.
Have you elected to put a beloved pet to sleep? Feel free to share your experience in the comments section.
Thank you for reading this article. Your questions and comments are completely welcome.
Please feel free to communicate with me through Twitter (@PatrickMahaney) and follow my adventures in veterinary medicine by liking Patrick Mahaney: Veterinarian Acupuncture Pain Management for Your Pets on Facebook.
Copyright of this article (2015) is owned by Dr Patrick Mahaney, Veterinarian and Certified Veterinary Acupuncturist. Republishing any portion of this article must first be authorized by Dr Patrick Mahaney. Requests for republishing must be approved by Dr Patrick Mahaney and received in written format.