We adopted Bernie from a shelter in October of 2006. We had moved into our first house in August and had a yard. We were trying to get pregnant, had gone through some treatments, and had looked into adoption and started filling out paperwork for that process. So, Bernie was our first experience with adoption. He filled an emotional need that we couldn't yet fill with children. And he loved back, jumping up to our chests when we returned home from work and school, following us from room to room...
When we adopted him, we were told that he was 8 or 9 years old. A groomer thought he was 10 or 11 based on skin spots. Regardless, he was already well into his adult life when we brought him home. Over the last couple years, his health started to get worse. He had special food to manage bladder stones and medication for arthritis. He also had a heart murmur. Over the last several months, his health started deteriorating more rapidly. His heart murmur became advanced and he started to cough after any physical exertion. His heart had to work harder, so his chest cavity expanded, making it more difficult to breath. Some pain medication helped him feel better as his arthritis started to make him stiff-legged.
Becca and I had discussed an end of life plan the week of Christmas. We decided to monitor him to see if he got worse, but expected to have to carry out our plans after our return from visiting family. During our visit to family, Bernie's health got much worse very quickly. He could not lay down for very long and would prop himself up with his front paws so he could breath. He would fall asleep sitting up like that, tip over, and then start the process again. Then, he wouldn't eat and drank very little. His energy was gone and we had to carry him and hold him to give him relief.
Becca had prepared the kids for what was coming. She had read children's version of Marley and Me to the two older kids earlier in the year. She told them how his heart was not working very well and that we would eventually need to put him to sleep and he would not wake up.
Although we would have liked to have carried out our plans at home, it was time to release Bernie from his suffering. We took the kids into a bedroom at my parents house with Bernie and put him on the bed. As Becca and I composed ourselves, Riley discerned what was going on and asked, "Are we going to talk about Bernie?" We responded, "yes," to which she asked, "Is it time to put him to sleep?" We told her yes and that it would happen that afternoon. Tyson smiled, looking at all of us crying until Becca told him, "We need to say goodbye to Bernie." He started crying (he has lately become very attached to him and is very gentle and tried to talk to him softly to calm him down when he was coughing) and when we asked why he was sad, said, "Want Bernie to live." We let the kids say their goodbyes and headed to a local vet.
Although making this decision was the right thing to do, it was one of the, if not the hardest thing that we've had to do. Becca felt it was only right that she pushed the final plunger to take responsibility for the comfort of our pet. As I held his head, we let him slip away.
Some day we will probably have a dog again, but Bernie can't be replaced in what he gave us at a critical time in our lives. We love him and thank him for all he did for us.
