posted on Nov, 2 2020 @ 07:46 AM
Roscoe died last week. Actually, we had to put him down.
I was in Kentucky, when my fiance called and said he has fallen off the bed and was carrying his head down and cocked to the side. We thought he had
sprained a muscle and she took him to the vet. He said that wasn't much he could do, because he was so old that, even if they did x rays and found
something, he was just to old to survive surgery. He gave him some pain meds and muscle relaxers and for about a week, he seemed to be getting better.
Then, everything just seemed to go wrong. He started walking into walls, wouldn't eat unless we boiled some chicken and hand fed him or use a syringe
to put water in his mouth.
I think he had a stroke/seizure that threw him off the bed and over time, continued having tiny strokes until there was nothing of him
animal running on instinct.
I still get up in the morning to let my Great Pyrenees out and turn, looking for him to follow her and then I remember...."Oh"
I still catch myself putting down 2 bowls of food.
He was my "riding buddy". I would get my keys out of my pocket and when he heard that jingle, those ears would perk up and all I had to say was
He was out the door and waiting by the truck. I would roll his window down and he was in heaven, nose out and ears flapping in the wind.
He's in the backyard ...and ya know what ? SCREW the city ordinance about burying pets. He was my friend and He. Stays. Home.