One of the worst decisions you ever have to make is when to end a life. You never can make the right decision because even when the majority of you knows that it is right, there will always be a piece of you that doubts it. Always.
He was limping so badly, his arthritis pained him so much that he could no longer jump on the furniture or into the car. How sucky is it that you get banned from furniture your whole life and just when you’re finally allowed up out of respect for your old bones that you can’t even jump anymore? He couldn’t do a full circuit of the park on his walks, and certainly no more chasing imaginary rabbits and jumping Beechers Brook. Long gone are the days when he could dislocate your shoulder by a sudden change of direction... Babe could walk him sedately and she’s three years old.
He started to lose his mind. I can’t list all the things because it is too painful, but seeing a great dog suddenly change so rapidly… and he was a great dog. Protective and loving and kind… thick as crap but no-one’s perfect.
He was a bit blind, mostly deaf, and didn’t want to eat much of anything.
The vet said there was nothing they could do anymore. And so now he’s not coming back.
We’ll miss you, Merlin.