When Mikey, a West Highland White Terrier came to us, he was eight years old. He came from a family who were at the time living in a motel but who were preparing to move into a NO PETS apartment. Someone from Wifey’s church asked if we wanted to adopt and I caved. I had previously said that the previous Westie would be our last dog.
We think he was a performing dog as he skipped his hind legs when walking at a fast pace. The people from whom we got him once mentioned “the carneys we got him from” or something like that. His tail never went above horizontal, indicating to me that it had probably been broken, so he was probably put out to pasture. The skipping gait faded over the years and I regret never having recorded it to video.
Mikey has not been well of late. His vision began failing him some years ago. I noticed when walking him around the golf course. On more than one occasion, a rabbit would cross our path within 15-20 feet and Mikey failed to notice. A few years back, he became unable to jump up onto his couch so we bought a set of stairs for him. As he declined with age, we had to start assisting him up the steps holding his back end because his hind legs would no longer propel him adequately. Eventually, we would have to place him on the couch. Then we stopped putting him at “his place” on the couch altogether since he would invariably fall when he tried to use the stairs to get down. I feared for his fragile bones.
It’s been months since he lost bladder and bowel control. He wears diapers and we have many opportunities to clean up. He developed a series of open sores all over his body and the vet says that the best he can do is make Mikey “comfortable” with pain pills. In the last year he’s gone from his normal 24 pounds to a paltry 14 but is currently back up to 15.
He cannot rise from lying down to a standing position on his own. It takes several tries assisting him before he gets his footing. Then he wanders around, seemingly confused, stopping every few steps to look around.
I have been gently suggesting that it is past time to have Mikey euthanized. My wife and our daughter (who has shared custody) have been keeping him alive, I think, for selfish reasons. Mikey himself has no quality of life. He’s just a peeing, pooping skin and bones stuffed animal that has to be moved from place to place and cleaned up after.
They made their decision this evening. Now, at fifteen plus years old, Mikey will be EOL’d tomorrow afternoon. I have a hole to dig in the yard so that Mikey can join his predecessors.