I used to have this hyperactive red Siberian husky named Nikita. He was kind of annoying, but we got along pretty well for the most part. When our other Husky, Schala, died we had to bring Nick in as an indoor dog. He pretty much sucked. He used to pee all over the floors (almost out of spite) chew through the doors and counter surf. (one time, he got a hold of the coffee maker and decided to make a meal of the coffee grounds. Needless to say, he ended up ralphing coffee/dogfood goop all over the house) I secretly hated this dog for a long time. He was a pain in my ass, between cleaning up his messes and having to take him for walks in the winter (hello four feet of snow).
Well, a few springs back, my parents went on vacation for a week to Vegas and I had to take care of the old mutt. At first, I very much disliked the idea ME being this terror's main caregiver. However, as the days went by, I started to warm up to him. I found his difficulty in getting up and down stairs sad and endearing and his persistent determination to reach HIS destination heartwarming in a weird sort of way. (most larger dogs suffer from hip displacement the older they get. He also had Arthritis, which was really bad in the harsh winters)
A couple of weeks later, I came home from work to find Nick laying in the middle of the living room floor, breathing but unresponsive with dilated eyes. I knew he was pretty much at the end of his rope, but I didn't know he was this bad. I was then only one home, and to much my dismay, I couldn't get a hold of ANYBODY!
So, I sat with him for the last hour of his life, petting his head and talking to him. I let him know that he'd be missed and that we all loved him. When his time came, his whole body tightened and then went limp. I continued to sit there with him until my parents came home and take care of his body.
I still miss him and regret taking him for granted when he was alive.
Well, a few springs back, my parents went on vacation for a week to Vegas and I had to take care of the old mutt. At first, I very much disliked the idea ME being this terror's main caregiver. However, as the days went by, I started to warm up to him. I found his difficulty in getting up and down stairs sad and endearing and his persistent determination to reach HIS destination heartwarming in a weird sort of way. (most larger dogs suffer from hip displacement the older they get. He also had Arthritis, which was really bad in the harsh winters)
A couple of weeks later, I came home from work to find Nick laying in the middle of the living room floor, breathing but unresponsive with dilated eyes. I knew he was pretty much at the end of his rope, but I didn't know he was this bad. I was then only one home, and to much my dismay, I couldn't get a hold of ANYBODY!
So, I sat with him for the last hour of his life, petting his head and talking to him. I let him know that he'd be missed and that we all loved him. When his time came, his whole body tightened and then went limp. I continued to sit there with him until my parents came home and take care of his body.
I still miss him and regret taking him for granted when he was alive.
