Faulkner
Member
Sometimes being the patriarch of the family just plain sucks. I made the call last month to put our youngest son's dog down, she was only 7 years old.
Champ the wonder dog was a registered border collie that was a birthday present for our youngest son's 12th birthday and they have been inseparable ever since. Everyone knows how smart border collies are and Champ was no exception. He had trained Champ to do all kinds of things from herding the neighbor's cows to riding the whitewater on the bow of the canoe. She was a whiz with catching a Frisbee and one of the funniest things was when our son took up disc golf in his first year of college and he had to train Champ NOT to catch them and bring them back.
A couple of months ago we noticed Champ was favoring her left ear and we discovered some drainage. The vet's initial diagnosis was an ear infection and prescribed some medication, but when the symptoms seemed to worsen we took her back for another visit. When the vet irrigated her ear he found a tumor deep down next to her eardrum. It's a rare occurrence and the surgical fix was estimated to be very expensive and there was a good chance it could be debilitating. The alternative was to do nothing which was unacceptable because of the increasing pain, or keep her drugged up for the next 5-6 months. Although our son is a 19 year old young man he was devastated, especially with Champ being as young as she is and otherwise healthy.
We brought her home from the vet and decided to sleep on it. The next evening after supper we discussed the situation. We were not going to spend thousands of dollars on a debilitating surgery. Keeping her drugged up for several months until the inevitable end was not a good end for an active border collie, and watching her suffer in increasing pain was not an option either. I made the call to put her down. I called the vet and set up an appointment the next day and my son said he wanted to take her back to the vet on his own and handle it. Bless her heart, my wife cried like a baby as our son, with Champ by his side in the front seat of the pickup, drove down the drive headed to town . . . dad-gummit, I think I even developed a case of the sniffles.
Champ the wonder dog was a registered border collie that was a birthday present for our youngest son's 12th birthday and they have been inseparable ever since. Everyone knows how smart border collies are and Champ was no exception. He had trained Champ to do all kinds of things from herding the neighbor's cows to riding the whitewater on the bow of the canoe. She was a whiz with catching a Frisbee and one of the funniest things was when our son took up disc golf in his first year of college and he had to train Champ NOT to catch them and bring them back.
A couple of months ago we noticed Champ was favoring her left ear and we discovered some drainage. The vet's initial diagnosis was an ear infection and prescribed some medication, but when the symptoms seemed to worsen we took her back for another visit. When the vet irrigated her ear he found a tumor deep down next to her eardrum. It's a rare occurrence and the surgical fix was estimated to be very expensive and there was a good chance it could be debilitating. The alternative was to do nothing which was unacceptable because of the increasing pain, or keep her drugged up for the next 5-6 months. Although our son is a 19 year old young man he was devastated, especially with Champ being as young as she is and otherwise healthy.
We brought her home from the vet and decided to sleep on it. The next evening after supper we discussed the situation. We were not going to spend thousands of dollars on a debilitating surgery. Keeping her drugged up for several months until the inevitable end was not a good end for an active border collie, and watching her suffer in increasing pain was not an option either. I made the call to put her down. I called the vet and set up an appointment the next day and my son said he wanted to take her back to the vet on his own and handle it. Bless her heart, my wife cried like a baby as our son, with Champ by his side in the front seat of the pickup, drove down the drive headed to town . . . dad-gummit, I think I even developed a case of the sniffles.
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