When your dog has to be put to sleep
Shelters are trying to work with pet owners with financial issues
I trotted into the credit union groggily, barely awake and intent on gobbling down my fast food breakfast. I’d been working on and off at my mother’s job since I was a pre-teen, and this was quarterly mailing time, where we printed out statements and sent brochures to all the members. She’d been a credit union manager for well over three decades, so this place was my second home. I got paid four Saturdays of the year for this kind of work plus summer needs. Even pre-coffee, I was prepared to both train and complete the entire job with a team or solo. What I was not prepared for was my mother to start crying at work.
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When I saw her burst into tears shortly after I walked into the building, my first thought was, “My gawd, what credit union member has pissed her off this badly?” I jumped up, unsure of what to do. Did she get terminated? Was the credit union closing? Did someone steal money? She turned around and said, “They put Faith to sleep.” I heard her say the words, but I couldn’t comprehend these five words in a sentence.
I’d seen my 9-year-old German Shepherd a few weeks before. She scared the bejesus out of me at the garage door. I had no idea she was there when I parked my car in my parents’ garage, wrestled my winter coat back on, grabbed my overnight bag and opened the door. There stood Faith, patiently waiting on me and knowing full well that this meant we were going for a walk (something I did loyally for all nine years when I came to their home).
I shrieked and then laughed, aiming my smartphone down at her to take a photograph of this biggole cute German Shepherd. She hated summer days, but frigid, cold winter was her groove. I’ll never understand it. But I never expected that garage moment to be the last time I saw her. Seven years later, and even with a new dog of my own, this garage door image of Faith is still my desktop wallpaper.
I was able to see my first dog, Shep, age all the way to 13. He’d hobble down the basement steps and I’d observe my once-rambunctious Labrador Retriever. I knew sooner or later we’d have to say goodbye to him. That didn’t happen until I was away at college though. With Faith, there were no signs of illness. When my mother told me she laid in the hallway, couldn’t walk, and urinated and pooped because she couldn’t get to the back door, my jaw dropped.
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According to the Morris Animal Foundation, “Hemangiosarcoma is a common and deadly cancer of dogs. The cancer tends to grow and spread rapidly, rarely giving the owner any clue their dog is harboring a deadly disease — until it suddenly strikes.” And that was just how it happened — with absolutely no warning. I was too shocked to really cry. I just held my mother in a tight hug and waited for her to stop crying. That was the longest credit union quarterly statement stuffing in my entire life.
Shelters are trying to help animal owners with pet health problems
Saving Faith just wouldn’t have worked out. Her cancer was so far along that even the vets said she probably wouldn’t have lived for more than another year or even a matter of months. Shelling out thousands of dollars would’ve been more of an emotional response than a logical one. My father tried to carry this 60-plus pound dog down the back steps and his legs shook. Faith got one final burst of energy to climb out of his arms, go down the steps and he carried her to the car.