Yesterday was one of the toughest days of my life. Jefferson had a appointment with the vet and I knew deep down in the pit of my stomach he would not be returning home. I always had hope that the nagging sore leg would be better one morning.
A bone biopsy had proven negative several months ago. Arthritis meds seemed to help his limp. He had many good days and then a bad. He remained faithful and greeted both Paul and I every day that we came home from work. He would walk right by my side out to the dried up pond no matter how hot it was. He licked and played with the grandkids.
He began to make beds out of anything he could find. All old the dog beds, bedspreads, throw rugs, my pajamas from under my pillow, then the pillows, were all carefully shredded in a comfortable mess. He had been loosing weight, it was noticeable. Chicken, steak, pork chops - whatever he would try was prepared with hopes he would begin eating better.
He never really complained until a about two weeks ago. Little moans when he would get up or lie down. It was almost like a habit he got into to let us know he was in the room with us.
His happy greetings turned to just greetings. His eyes , although bright, showed that he hurt. He didn't need to suffer and I know he was.
He needed another chance to be free..... It was a hard decision, the vet confirmed and comforted me .... It was time for Jefferson to go...
Jefferson is one of two retired racing Greyhounds that my parents adopted. He was a really neat dog, and I'm sad that I won't get to see him again. Everyone should be so lucky to have such a pet as part of their family.