Not nice, but good, I think
I have written here, and other places, very fondly of a dog called Patch.

This is the story of his death.

The Jugular Family is primarily ruled by Ma Jugular, she's hard, mostly fair, but most of all, an extremely pragmatic woman. What she lacks in education and empathy, she more than makes up for in her ability to cut through bullshit and get to the heart of the matter.

Except when it came to Patch.

A couple of years ago, Ma Jugular called me home to say that Patch was dying (prostate cancer). She informed me that she had spent over a grand on treatment (without telling Pa Jugular) but it wasn't working. Hard cash and dishonesty is not like my mum at all.

I went home, a glorious April morning, we had a BBQ, played with Patchie all day and generally had a ripping time.

In the morning, I was awoken by Ma Jugular, in tears, saying that there was blood all over the house where Patch had done his midnight stroll, unaware that he was bleeding.

We cleaned it up and Ma Jugular went next door to her friend to calm down.

Ma and Pa Jugular had been putting this decision off, not unusual for my dad, but very unusual for my very practical mother. They were desperate for this not to happen.

I sat with Patchie in the living room and asked him if it was time for him to die.

He said yes

As the rest of the family got up, I took Patch for his final walk.

To alleviate their guilt, and to ensure that, Patch, an integral member of our family was no longer in pain, I rang the vets and I made the decision.

The whole family went, Ma and Pa couldn't stay, they sat in the car crying their eyes out.

I went into the room with Patch and my brother. I held him with one arm and stroked Patch with the other.

As the injection went in, Patch looked at me with a mix of love, confusion and gratitude. And I knew I would have to live with the guilt of making this decision, but at least no-one else in my family would.

I knew then as much as I know now that it was the right decision to make. So, not nice, but good.
(Jugular, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 12:08, 8 replies)

I will never own another dog
When my family dog had to be put down, I travelled home from uni, my older brother travelled down to my parents and we paid for the vet to come to the house. We were all with the dog when she was put down.

NEVER. EVER. AGAIN.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 12:13, closed)

I know what you mean
My parents have never even considered another dog.

I have a lovely old girl called Muffin now

It helps she's so different to Patch though
(Jugular, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 12:14, closed)

My neighbours have dogs
2 of them have springer spaniels (like my old family dog) so I have pets by proxy.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 12:18, closed)

My Muffin
is half welsh-collie, half staffie, all anti-social. I likes her, but she does whiff
(Jugular, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 14:01, closed)

My parents
never considered another dog either.

My dog (a cocker spaniel) had a heart condition (a common trait in this breed). We moved to Glasgow around the time it started to show itself. This dog had been by my side all my life, and my mum had picked it personally.

One morning, they took it to the vet to check on her, as they did every other week. As they parked the car, and got out, my mum turned to my dad and said "She's gone". At least she died naturally, in my mum's arms, rather than alone in the kitchen, or on the vet's table.


They now have fish. They couldn't get another dog.
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 17:48, closed)

Click etc

(MJPerry was crude but clickable at, Fri 3 Oct 2008, 12:28, closed)

SOL
Sobbing out loud...

*click*
( warmfuzzies Isn't here, Sat 4 Oct 2008, 3:12, closed)

Darnit
Now I'm really sobbing. Poo.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sun 5 Oct 2008, 22:31, closed)