My pure-bred German Shepherd, Thor, lived from late '81 (we received it weeks old from the AKC, with certificates detailing it's pedigree). It died on July 17th, 1994, broke my heart, and caused me innumerable long crying spells in the month, to month-and-a-half after. It was more than a pet, or a friend---it was the equivalent of my brother, as I was and still am an only child.
What probably made all
so much worse was knowing what a tortured existence he had just prior to dying. He had hip dysplasia (a condition where the hips eventually become useless because of the severe pain, and all), which is unfortunately far too common in pure-bred German Shepherds, and some other breeds for about six months prior to passing, flies were often biting at the ends of his ears, and fleas were infesting, aggravating, and torturing the living hell out of him (as well as any person who ventured out into the flea-covered backyard). My solace is that he finally was given the peace he so richly deserved after serving us with unwavering loyalty for more than twelve years during the night he passed.
Like anything else where love is involved, there can be oh-so much happiness, and cruelly, there also lies the greatest of all sadness, and pains.
Two months later (Sept. 1994), we had moved out of that rented house, and within a week, or two, thankfully, had our pain eased with the arrival of a new puppy from a new, friendly neighbor---a Lab/Rottweiler mix. He's long gone now, it seems, but the good memories remain, just as vivid as they were seven years ago---as they will always be. I have a new love now in this pet, but I think of myself as being so fortunate, and priveleged to have grown up with Thor as a sweet, cherished family member for so long. That's what matters.
