Berkeley was named after the Irish idealist, Bishop George Berkeley. Like his namesake, it’s pronounced “bark-lee”.
I’ve had him since he was a puppy. And he wasn’t just a puppy… he was a little teddy bear. If you’ve never held a baby Chow Chow, you can’t understand. And this one… he was the runt and I think we sorta’ felt sorry for him.
About the same time we got Berkeley, we (my ex-wife and I) also got a German Shepherd/Border Collie mix puppy. They didn’t get along so well. In fact, they fought. They fought a lot. Berks still has a crumpled up left ear as a result of one of their incursions.
A few years later, Shannon and I were moving from the house we were renting into the mobile home we just bought. She was at work and I was moving stuff. As we had done often, since we lived in the country, I just let Berks out to do his thing and get some exercise. Long story short, he was shot about 12 times with a .22. Apparently, some farmer thought he was a coyote messing with his cattle and really let him have it.
After suffering multiple bullet wounds to his muzzle and shattered fore-limbs, surgery and splints and pins, he pulled through. My friends called him the ‘Six Million Dollar Dog’.
So now… it’s 2007. I think we got him the summer of 1994. That makes him about 13 years old, right?
Long story short, after a pretty bad winter dealing with his arthritis, and senility causing him to sometimes forget who even I was, but more troublesome, causing him to be unpredictably aggressive toward me and visitors, well… today I finally had him put to sleep.
My friend Sharon suggested I have it done at home. But I had already talked to the vet yesterday and it made sense to do it at his office. I stayed home with Berkeley this morning and we took advantage of the beautiful, sunny day to have one last romp in the yard and a short walk up and down the road. When we came back in, he was ready for a nap, so I let him sleep for an hour or so.
The doctor was expecting me, so I didn’t have to wait at all. Of course, along the way to the exam room, I had to pull him back because he was snarling and growling at the other dogs and cats in the waiting room. He gave Berkeley a sedative and left us alone for his last 15 conscious minutes. I petted him and talked to him about all the good times we had as his legs slowly grew weaker and he couldn’t stand up anymore. He looked up at me while I scratched his ears until he finally fell asleep.
At that point, he was gone. The vet gave him another shot and within a few minutes, while I watched, his heart stopped.
Coming home from work today was a little weird. I mean, Berkeley stopped being excited for me to come home a long time ago. So there was no dog greeting me at the door as there hasn’t been for a long while now. I think that’s the hardest part. I really lost him several months ago when his age finally got the best of him and he became something other than my Berkeley. Today was just a technicality.
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