Damn That Was Hard!

[whitebuffalo58]

Thanks guys, I knew there'd be several of you that would understand. It's been good to have friends to share with.

Like many here, Jackson wasn't the first, but by far his passing is the worst. We've always kept and trained dogs for work, but he was the first in a long time that we actually formed that "special" bond. No matter where I was on the property, there he was. Once he even saved me from a Copperhead strike, by taking the hit himself. (long before that and from a very young age, he had a nose for and an absolute hatred of ALL snakes, big or small)

He will be sorely missed and we'll most likely end up with another dog, but it'll be hard to truly "replace" him.

Thanks again for lending a sympathetic ear, it helps...a lot!


WB

[jerryd6818]

He will be sorely missed and we'll most likely end up with another dog, but it'll be hard to truly "replace" him.
WB

You won't be replacing him Rob. You'll just be adding a grand-puppy.

[XX Case XX]

I've been there twice so far. I'm so sorry to hear that news. Each time that happens, a part of me never comes back. I think I understand your pain. Think about them all the time. I'm sure some of you have noticed the quote at the bottom of all my posts from Will Rogers. I put that there because that's how I really feel.

___________
Mike

[whitebuffalo58]

Jerry, you don't know how much I wish it could actually be a grand-puppy. Fact is Jackson was named for his dad "Jack". Hence the name "Jack's Son". Jack was a great dog, a registered German Shorthair. We intentionally bred him with a registered Red Healer in hopes of getting a good cattle dog that could also hunt. It actually worked!

The difference was, Jack took his tasks in life seriously and really didn't seem to have that hardcore bonding gene that his off-spring did. I was very fond of him and we were Pals, but he just wasn't the type to lay at your feet in front of the fire on a cold winters night.


WB

[whitebuffalo58]

Mike, love Will Rogers and that's a great quote! Thanks for that!!


WB

[TwoFlowersLuggage]

I forgot to add: I cried like a baby in the vet's office when we let Roxy go. She was 14 and a month prior she had the canine equivalent of a stroke. She couldn't walk or stand on her own and spent 2 weeks at the animal hospital getting 24/7 care. She was slowly getting better, and we brought her home. We had a harness with a handle on her and we would help her stand & take steps and each day she seemed to get slightly better. Then, she had another episode and this time she couldn't walk and couldn't hold her head up. It was no longer in her best interests to try to keep her going. The quality of her life was just too low and we loved her too much to make her keep trying. It was incredibly hard, but it was the best thing for her. I couldn't stand to see her suffering, and there was no hope she would get significantly better. I cried. My wife cried. My kids cried. We cried together.

[carrmillus]

......been living here for 53 years now, we've got 14 dogs and cats buried in the back yard under a row of oak trees. I have to repaint the names and dates on the stones every year and I have yet to do it without crying.............

[treefarmer]

I figured I had said enough in my 1st comment but all these kind words have brought back a lifetime of memories.
Having been raised in the country, animals were just part of our lives. Cows, horses, dogs and cats were always present. Death was always close by for many reasons.

One particularly bad remembrance that always comes to mind was the day I got home from school and found my hound dog and one of the horses in very bad shape. The Walker hound's name was Pokey and honestly I can't recall what had happened to her but she had to be put down. My dad worked the 2nd shift at Martin-Marietta southwest of Orlando, so I was the "man" of the day. Mother said your dog shouldn't be allowed to suffer any more. That very same afternoon a neighbor called and said one of our old horses, Smokey, was "down" in a pasture near their house. Again I don't remember what had happened, the old feller was just old, wore out and it was his time.

I suppose that day toughened me up a bit, I was probably 13 or 14 at the time. Many more occurrences like this over the years have happened, it never gets easy but I would like to lighten this up a little with an incident that was sad but always makes me smile when I think about it.

When we raised our children here in the Panhandle, the animals intended for the freezer were always named "Hamburger" or "Steak" or "Pork chop", y'all understand the logic. They were different than the momma cows we kept over the years, we always sold their calves and usually no tears were involved. Cats and dogs came and went over the years with Daddy always taking care of the "problems".

Fast forward a few years, the cow crew has gone off to college, graduated and out on their own. So naturally they all have dogs and when one of the dogs gets old and starts to fail they knew that mother and dad would do their best to nurse them back to health here on the farm. There were two Basset Hounds, several years apart, that came home to die, if you will. We spent money on them at the vet and made sure they were as comfortable as possible and of course the day that White Buffalo just experienced eventually came. Concerning one of the old Bassets, Miss Joy said, "You're not going to do this, you must take the dog to the vet", I agreed. This particular Basset had an ear span of 23 inches and the ears were just as silky as could be. Rather than take the dog into the vet's office, he came out to the Jeep and administered the shot in her front leg. She very peacefully went to sleep as the vet and I stroked her extra long ears. He could see that it bothered me a bit and he said, "This reminds me of something that happened years ago." He went on to tell of a day when he was docking the ears of a Doberman. His young son was in the room with him and he handed the left over ear pieces to his son and told him to put these in your pocket and we'll have ear sandwiches when we get home. He thought no more about it till his wife discovered the ears in the laundry basket several days later. The vet cheered me up a bit and sent me to dig another grave.

Bitter sweet memories of many great and some not so great dogs. As I write this, there is a 70 pound Shepador, (1/2 Chocolate Lab 1/2 red merle Australian Shepard) rolled up under my desk because she is afraid of thunder. In the living room there is a miniature Dachshund that will bark every time the thunder sounds, he's got an attitude and if you happen to be a barn cat you're in big trouble! We spend more money on the heartworm and flea/tick preventive medication than we ever did on our children's doctor visits. They are part of our family and one day they too will be a memory.
Treefarmer

[Colonel26]

Jerry, you don't know how much I wish it could actually be a grand-puppy. Fact is Jackson was named for his dad "Jack". Hence the name "Jack's Son". Jack was a great dog, a registered German Shorthair. We intentionally bred him with a registered Red Healer in hopes of getting a good cattle dog that could also hunt. It actually worked!

The difference was, Jack took his tasks in life seriously and really didn't seem to have that hardcore bonding gene that his off-spring did. I was very fond of him and we were Pals, but he just wasn't the type to lay at your feet in front of the fire on a cold winters night.


WB

I know where you’re coming from. I’ve had birdgogs and beagle hkunds all my life, and my wife and I now raise and work English shepherd stock dogs. Ive had to put a few down over the years and it ain’t never easy. But when it’s one of your buddies, man that’s tough.

I have a couple of ES now that are my buddies. They herd the goats, tree squirrels, play like puppies, baby sit the boys, and make every step I do around the place. When the day comes for them......well I don’t even want to think about it.

[whitebuffalo58]

Jerry, you don't know how much I wish it could actually be a grand-puppy. Fact is Jackson was named for his dad "Jack". Hence the name "Jack's Son". Jack was a great dog, a registered German Shorthair. We intentionally bred him with a registered Red Healer in hopes of getting a good cattle dog that could also hunt. It actually worked!

The difference was, Jack took his tasks in life seriously and really didn't seem to have that hardcore bonding gene that his off-spring did. I was very fond of him and we were Pals, but he just wasn't the type to lay at your feet in front of the fire on a cold winters night.


WB

I know where you’re coming from. I’ve had birdgogs and beagle hkunds all my life, and my wife and I now raise and work English shepherd stock dogs. Ive had to put a few down over the years and it ain’t never easy. But when it’s one of your buddies, man that’s tough.

I have a couple of ES now that are my buddies. They herd the goats, tree squirrels, play like puppies, baby sit the boys, and make every step I do around the place. When the day comes for them......well I don’t even want to think about it.

That's pretty much it in a nut shell, Colonel. We've had quite a few dogs over the years and I've cared for and about every one of them. But every so often one comes along and it just seems to click. Those are the ones that are especially hard to say goodbye to.


WB