Monday evening we put him down. I've dealt with death before working at a shelter and several vet clinics but its different when its your pet. He was 9 years old, we had each other for 8 years, 8 wonderful, short years. He made every day worth it to me, we were so in tune. Even my mother agreed (who is in no way an animal person) that he was very human in his personality and emotions. Within a month or so we went from being able to go for 2 hour walks through trails and rivers to 30 minute walks(on a very good day) where he had to lay down every few minutes because his legs would shake and get weak.
During his last day he was spoiled, taken up to the Port Dover beach where he sniffed with such enthusiasm I thought his nose might fall off, he marked his claim proudly as if he were still 2 years old and rolled in bird crap all too happily before having a good roll in the salty grass. He loved his car rides and had a few nice long ones during his short few hours left. Sitting in the front seat proudly. He was spoiled with treats that had been forbidden to him for so long as we tried to help him loose weight... pizza, chicken, pork, cookies, cheetos and chips. I even stopped by Tim Hortons so he could have himself his usual plain donut, actually two, I had bought one for Boone so he wouldn't feel left out but he didn't eat his fast enough and Drifter decided it was fair game and stole it from him.
The flast 5 hours before he passed on I took him down to the lakefront, I often took him down there when I still lived at home. He was whining in the car the moment he smelt the air, and tugged at his leash as soon as he was out the door, unable to curb his joy. He trotted about again proudly marking this place as his, mucked about in the lake for a while before having to go and rest in the long grass that grew from the sand, he'd come back over several times to spend some time with me, my brother and Boone before going to rest and rolling in only he knows what, probably crap.
Then it was back home where he was loved on, told he was a good dog, that we loved him, would miss him and wished there was something else we could do for him. Minutes before my dad and I took him out for a hot dog which he inhaled in one bite, so pleased that he was allowed to have it and it was all for him, my dad poured water from a bottle into his hand for him to have a nice cold drink afterward, took him for a quick visit to his old stomping grounds, where he played with a handful of other dogs in his younger years and even found himself a girlfriend. He wondered around, marking his claim and glancing over to his girlfriend's house who used to live just across the field before having a good roll. From there we headed to the vet clinic my dad, instead of putting Drifter in the back seat, went back there himself so Drifter could sit in the front. Drifter has always sat in the front, cries when he can't. He loved riding shotgun with me or my dad, he lived for that. My dad thought he deserved one last ride as co pilot.
As was his nature, he happily and proudly walked into the vet's office without a leash or collar, he listened so well we hardly bothered with them for things like this. he laid down on some blankets they had set up for him, and waited for his fate that I'm sure he knew was coming but didn't let it on at all. He was happy even to the end, his tail wagging even as they gave him that final needle. His eyes looking at me as I held his head so he wouldn't hit it off the floor when it happened. He fought it for a second and then slowly rolled and I laid his head down, petting him while it took affect, gave him a kiss between his eyes like I always did before I left or went to bed and told him it would be OK soon, he'd be healthy again, able to run around without pain, no more scary seizures would touch him, my dad sat beside him as well, crying. I don't remember ever seeing him cry before. In 60 seconds he was gone... my dad laid on him, crying.. "I loved you!" "you were a good boy Drift!" and then left the room. I stayed longer, laying on the floor, resting my head on his side like I used to and stroked his face whispering "I'm sorry, I love you, your were the best dog, a good boy, you didn't do anything to deserve this we just wanted to help you". His body felt cold suddenly, I was sure there was no way he would get cold that fast but he felt cold to me, I fixed his head so it was more on the blanket then covered him "your cold Drifter, we can't have that, let mama cover you up" and I left the room.
He meant the world to me... to the rest of the world he was just a dog to me he was so much more, he was my child, my friend, my protector, a gentlemen, my pillow, my teddy bear, my shoulder to cry on and keeper of my secrets.
Every time I went out to visit on weekends I'd always tell Drifter "next time we'll go to the beach" or "next time I'll take you out for Tim Hortons". I feel awful that I didn't make time for these things then. So make next time this time, you never know how much time you have left. I thought I had a few years left with him, thought I'd have lots of time to make up for things.
RIP my boy, you deserve it.
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