- Oct 16, 2004
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So here's the story.
When my stepdad moved in with us almost four years, ago, he'd brought a dog with him. A big dog. Since my mom never was a dog person, this was the first dog we'd ever really been with for longer than a few minutes. A male purebred German Shepherd. His name was Pongo. It took us all a while to get used to him being around, since I wasn't really afraid of dogs, it wasn't a big deal for me. But both my mom and six-year-old sister were kinda nervous around him, so it took a little longer for them.
But over the years we had all grown attached to this dog, even my mom, who had always thrown a fit every time he fed on her plants or crapped in the house. He became part of the family.
Four years passed. We can all see that Pongo's hind legs were really taking a beating, and he began to have trouble sitting, or getting up after laying down for a while. He also began to have bowel problems, and in the past week or two his front legs were starting to give out. So we decided it was time to let him go.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005. 4:00 PM. That was his time.
My mom had to take my little sister to the doctor today, but expected to be back by 4. Well the doctor held them up and they couldn't leave. So my stepdad, my oldest stepsister, who is 21, and I took Pongo to the vet for the last time.
I had only been with the dog for four years, while my step family had been with him for his whole life (my 16 year old stepsister had him for as long as she can remember). So I let the two have their last pets with Pongo, and they were clearly completely torn. I just kinda stood there in the corner of the small vet's office, watching him. The vet comes in with her assistant and explains the procedure. She gives Pongo two handfuls of treats before administering the shot. I just stood there watching, my sister was already crying her eyes out, even my dad. I just stood there in the corner of that small office, grinding my teeth and swallowing it down.
The vet shaved off a small portion of Pongo's paw as he chowed down on his last meal, and as her assistant and my dad held him down she gave the shot. An "overdose of anesthetics, that will put him to sleep and quickly stop the heart and lungs." I watched in silence, standing in the corner as the shot is given.
As hard as I tried, I couldn't hold it back, so I just cried. I just stood there in the corner, looked away, and cried. I cried not only because this was it, but because I wished I had spent more time with him.
People take things for granted, one of the biggest being life. Life is short. Enjoy it while you can.
I looked back at Pongo as he stared up at the vet, and as she took his head in her hands and slowly placed it on the tile floor. A quick check with the stethoscope and, "He's gone."
It was quick. It was painless. It was silent. It was how we all wanted him to go.
This was the first time in my life I had ever experienced the death of a friend or family member. The instant, painful realization that it's really over, that that's it, and the extra shot to the gut that you know that there was so much more that you wanted to do. So much more time that you could've spent, and you blew that chance.
I recently had to write an essay using the prompt, "People often don't appreciate something until they lose it. Do you agree? Support your decision with blah blah blah." How fvcking naive I was. But man is it true. We take everything for granted.
Pongo
1991 - 2005
He's in a better place now, free from the sweet pain of life.
R.I.P.
When my stepdad moved in with us almost four years, ago, he'd brought a dog with him. A big dog. Since my mom never was a dog person, this was the first dog we'd ever really been with for longer than a few minutes. A male purebred German Shepherd. His name was Pongo. It took us all a while to get used to him being around, since I wasn't really afraid of dogs, it wasn't a big deal for me. But both my mom and six-year-old sister were kinda nervous around him, so it took a little longer for them.
But over the years we had all grown attached to this dog, even my mom, who had always thrown a fit every time he fed on her plants or crapped in the house. He became part of the family.
Four years passed. We can all see that Pongo's hind legs were really taking a beating, and he began to have trouble sitting, or getting up after laying down for a while. He also began to have bowel problems, and in the past week or two his front legs were starting to give out. So we decided it was time to let him go.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005. 4:00 PM. That was his time.
My mom had to take my little sister to the doctor today, but expected to be back by 4. Well the doctor held them up and they couldn't leave. So my stepdad, my oldest stepsister, who is 21, and I took Pongo to the vet for the last time.
I had only been with the dog for four years, while my step family had been with him for his whole life (my 16 year old stepsister had him for as long as she can remember). So I let the two have their last pets with Pongo, and they were clearly completely torn. I just kinda stood there in the corner of the small vet's office, watching him. The vet comes in with her assistant and explains the procedure. She gives Pongo two handfuls of treats before administering the shot. I just stood there watching, my sister was already crying her eyes out, even my dad. I just stood there in the corner of that small office, grinding my teeth and swallowing it down.
The vet shaved off a small portion of Pongo's paw as he chowed down on his last meal, and as her assistant and my dad held him down she gave the shot. An "overdose of anesthetics, that will put him to sleep and quickly stop the heart and lungs." I watched in silence, standing in the corner as the shot is given.
As hard as I tried, I couldn't hold it back, so I just cried. I just stood there in the corner, looked away, and cried. I cried not only because this was it, but because I wished I had spent more time with him.
People take things for granted, one of the biggest being life. Life is short. Enjoy it while you can.
I looked back at Pongo as he stared up at the vet, and as she took his head in her hands and slowly placed it on the tile floor. A quick check with the stethoscope and, "He's gone."
It was quick. It was painless. It was silent. It was how we all wanted him to go.
This was the first time in my life I had ever experienced the death of a friend or family member. The instant, painful realization that it's really over, that that's it, and the extra shot to the gut that you know that there was so much more that you wanted to do. So much more time that you could've spent, and you blew that chance.
I recently had to write an essay using the prompt, "People often don't appreciate something until they lose it. Do you agree? Support your decision with blah blah blah." How fvcking naive I was. But man is it true. We take everything for granted.
Pongo
1991 - 2005
He's in a better place now, free from the sweet pain of life.
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