Feb. 22 Angus didn’t want to get up, although he went out on the leash. He had profuse watery diarrhea, refused food and was very lethargic, barely able to move. Distraught, my husband awakened me. I dressed quickly and went to comfort Angus. Our boy was to see the vet that morning because of his vision, and both of us feared that our vet would tell us there was no hope. I took Shadow outside and turned to see Angus following and he seemed almost frisky. At the vet’s, Angus’s left eye pressure was high and the right eye normal. We were sent to an ophthalmologist who diagnosed glaucoma, which may either be temporary or permanent

Feb. 24. Angus went to the eye clinic again today and his left eye pressure was still too high. They added another drop to that eye only. At this point Angus was eating and drinking well and apparently enjoying life between long naps. We were hopeful. He enjoyed a couple of trips to the coffee shop and walks downtown, his favorite activities.

Feb. 28. Angus was due for his Cytoxin treatment. His WBCs were a little low, and HCT had dropped. His left eye pressure had increased and right eye remained stable. There was still a lot of uveitis, and the vet was hopeful Cytoxin would do the trick. The trip to the vet exhausted Angus and he spent the better part of the day sleeping.

March. This month went by in a blur. Angus had his second Vincristine injection without too much difficulty, and his eyes continued to be a problem so he stayed on eye medication. Generally, he ate well, drank well and had good urine output. I worked Fridays through Mondays, and my husband worked Mondays through Fridays, so when we were both gone, Angus spent the day at the vet’s hospital. His WBCs and H&H remained low but neither required treatment.

March 20. Angus got the “big gun,” his Adriamycin injection. He tolerated it well, although a few days later he become very picky about eating and his energy level dropped. His big activity for the day was to go out and pee. That exhausted him. A trip in the car to the eye doctor in Orlando tired him for hours afterwards. Although he had little energy, occasionally he would surprise us and down 2 lbs of poached chicken or ground beef at a single sitting.

March 25. Angus woke up with what appeared to be green fluid oozing out of his left eyeball and the eye looked horrible. I tried to wipe away some of the ooze but realized he needed medical care quickly. Angus was diagnosed with a melting corneal ulceration and required hourly eye drops day and night. The opthalmolotist said that Angus wasn’t a good surgical candidate for removal of the eye.

Angus was becoming weaker and it was very difficult for him to get into the van, even though it’s low to the ground. He sometimes needed help to get up from lying on the tile. He was refusing meals and refusing pills in cheese. We had to poke the pills down his throat and my husband commented on his huge teeth as my hand disappeared inside Angus’s mouth. Angus accepted the pills.

March 30. I got up at 5:30 a.m. to drive north of Orlando to see Angus’s opthalmologist. The doctor pronounced his ulcerated eye “recovering” and gave us an additional eye drop to help shrink the bubble. We returned home and Angus was “flat out” the rest of the day. He was so down that I wondered if he would make it through the weekend. That evening I tried to see if a walk would perk his interest. With some difficulty he got up and we made it as far as the bench in the front yard. He had refused food all day but he accepted ground beef and ate a pound of it with great relish. We then went in the house and he walked straight to the back door so we took him out. He was almost frisky, running up to the front fence, then he stopped and sat down. We stayed with him a little and he followed us back into the house.

March 31. I had to work and Angus went to the vet’s office for day care and to be sure he can get his meds on time. I called during the day and was told Angus was doing well. When I went to pick him up, the secretary said the vet wanted to talk with me because Angus refused food and drink and wouldn’t get up. I immediately called my husband. I knew what was coming. It was the inevitable, and no matter how hard I tried to pretend it wasn’t going to happen, somewhere inside me I knew that it would. I just didn’t think it would be that day. I wasn’t ready to let go of my special boy.

Angus was in the exam room when I was taken back. He looked so sad, so worn out. He was barely able to come the few inches to me, but he came and buried his face in my lap and I stroked him. Our vet explained that Angus’s heart was giving out. He had gone into junctional rhythm, and despite an attempt at medical intervention, he wasn’t responding. His heart rate was dangerously low, only about 40 beats. He had edema of the throat and abdomen.

People have said your dog will tell you when it’s time to go, although I could never understand how one would know. Yet on that Friday, I believe that Angus was telling me that he couldn’t take any more; it was time. I made the devastating decision and the vet left me alone with Angus at my request, waiting for my husband. I stroked Angus and talked softly to him. His ears perked up when I mentioned “cat” or “chicken,” or “car.” But he couldn’t lift his head. When my husband arrived, Angus briefly raised his head but went into a coughing fit.

We spent some time comforting Angus and ourselves then told the vet that we were ready. Our vet gave the injection in Angus’s back leg as I lay at his front, stroking him and talking to him. His trusting eyes were on me and I told him it was OK to go to sleep. Very quickly his noisy breathing ceased, and our vet listened and confirmed his heart had stopped. We stayed with him a few moments then covered him with the cloth that the assistant had placed over his back.

We went home to Shadow, our 3-year-old female, who was wriggly excited to see us. But even Shadow’s energy and excitement couldn’t erase the emptiness I felt. I will never forget the trusting look and the favorite puppy position that Angus was in for his last moment.

Life isn’t fair.

I had to work the next two days at the hospital. My face was swollen from crying, I wore shaded glasses and told no one because I couldn’t speak without breaking down. Somehow I made it through the weekend. The next week was also very difficult. I wrote to my online friends and received many wonderful messages of condolence, each one bringing a new wave of crying. I followed the suggestion of one writer and picked out a star that would be Angus’s. Every evening I would go out and speak to that star to tell Angus he was still in my thoughts.

April 11. It’s too soon, but maybe Angus had an ethereal hand it in somehow. Angus’s sister had puppies just a week before we lost our special boy, and there is a nephew for me. It might be too soon – I don’t want to let go of the closeness I felt with Angus. But maybe it’s time to live in the present and know that I can keep Angus’s memory close while enjoying the new life. And I think Shadow would appreciate a friend. I have prepared an Angus memory book, so that whenever I want to think of him, I will have that book.

I believe that everyone, human or animal, touches our lives for a reason, and I’m still trying to learn the message from Angus’s short life with me. He was a special dog with great presence, great confidence, and he was much loved and is deeply missed.

April 19. two days before my birthday: Last night my husband and I selected a tree to be planted in honor of Angus, an elm. This tree will give us shade and we can put a bench under it to sit and read. Angus’s remains are with us in an urn. I am sponsoring a trophy in Angus’s memory at the 2006 ABdFC Nationals.

Angus, I will never forget you. I write this through tears. If you were with me, you would know and come to sit beside me, perhaps putting a paw on my lap or just sitting very close. I will always miss you. You will always be my special boy.