Anything that dies at the raw, not ripe, too young age of four plus years it could easily be said that that is a horrible thing to happen to anyone/thing.
Human beings are toddlers/babies then, and animals vary in maturity by type at that same numerical aged number.
A dog or puppy at that age is still a young-in, we can all agree.
And Gus was a mere four plus in years for today was his demise, since being a rescue we never really knew his true age, all we knew was where he came from and that was Naples Florida. He was a vagabond of a year or there about when harshly removed from his wanderlust freedom to becoming a ward of the state and given a home with a rescue agency called Canine Castaways, and then eventually with us.
So it is safe to say no one knows what indignities he may have suffered during his first year of dog-hood-om.
From what we could presume from his behavior flaws of fear of many things from pots and pans to plastic bags to towels we could only let our imaginations fly wild to mostly bad experiences, since Gus, originally Gaston would jump, cringe, bark or violently attack in bite mode!
He eventually became nearly desensitized to pots and pans noises, even plastic bags became not as scary either, towels he still did not care for, and baths, shots, being lifted up, or kissed while sleeping we never did get him to relax about any of those, but he was making progress!
Fear drove our little guy, but then there were times when he would jump on your lap and hug you, yep with his two front paws around you and slobber luscious kisses all over your face or hands...and use me as a stepping stone to get to his Dad, Hubby to me, and give him some shared smooches too.
Gus loved his stuffed toys of Monkey, Raccoon, Teddy, Bunny, Froggy et al. pull toy ropes, balls and bones, so many had been added in from his predecessors stock.
He had two bed sets, one for the living room and one for our bedroom.
He wasn't the jumper, swimmer or boater that any of his predecessors were either, but he did have his own special charms... he loved to play with the backyard hose and Daddy with any game he could think of, for they were true buddies all the way.
So in the end, today's final decision was his, Daddy's/ Hubby's.
A intelligent decision due to the facts of dear Gus's horrid too quick failing health diagrammed by his doctor!
Today is Monday and just last Thursday he was fine, yes absolutely FINE!
Friday was bit not too good, Saturday a bit more, but then Sunday was no different from Saturday, no better no worse.
Thus the visit to the veterinarian today.
He was not eating, had diarrhea, flopping not really walking, just moving a little then he would melt into a puddle onto the floor, not peeing just melt.
Even when after the doggy doc was called and Hubby tried to get him into the van, Hubby took the crate out for Gus to get into, but he couldn't even do that, and the one step into the garage Gus fell down, horribly missing it!
Hubby was very saddened by this downhill turn, and so was I!
Hubby fastened the lead around Gus and actually slid him into the crate.
Flashes of a replay of Skipper's, our Bichon Frise who died six weeks before we rescued Gus, he was ten and half at his death, also too young, and his was a inoperable stomach cancer also very aggressive, the similarity to Gus's too fast death played chilling déjà vu reruns that ran through both of our brains.
Just like that, in a blink of an eye, Gus was gone...so very very sad.
12-?-13 to 2-5-18. Hemorrhaging internally from in his stomach, pancreas, liver, and spleen cancer causing his wbc of 42000, and a rbc of 1, he would have starved to death. I asked the vet what to do if he was his and he said that he would euthanize him and so with much grief we did. So very young! Too young. He is at peace now somewhere in the hopeful afterlife world we pray is heaven or some such place. Farewell dear loving friend and companion till we meet gain...
Gus, you are already sorely missed!
Human beings are toddlers/babies then, and animals vary in maturity by type at that same numerical aged number.
A dog or puppy at that age is still a young-in, we can all agree.
And Gus was a mere four plus in years for today was his demise, since being a rescue we never really knew his true age, all we knew was where he came from and that was Naples Florida. He was a vagabond of a year or there about when harshly removed from his wanderlust freedom to becoming a ward of the state and given a home with a rescue agency called Canine Castaways, and then eventually with us.
So it is safe to say no one knows what indignities he may have suffered during his first year of dog-hood-om.
From what we could presume from his behavior flaws of fear of many things from pots and pans to plastic bags to towels we could only let our imaginations fly wild to mostly bad experiences, since Gus, originally Gaston would jump, cringe, bark or violently attack in bite mode!
He eventually became nearly desensitized to pots and pans noises, even plastic bags became not as scary either, towels he still did not care for, and baths, shots, being lifted up, or kissed while sleeping we never did get him to relax about any of those, but he was making progress!
Fear drove our little guy, but then there were times when he would jump on your lap and hug you, yep with his two front paws around you and slobber luscious kisses all over your face or hands...and use me as a stepping stone to get to his Dad, Hubby to me, and give him some shared smooches too.
Gus loved his stuffed toys of Monkey, Raccoon, Teddy, Bunny, Froggy et al. pull toy ropes, balls and bones, so many had been added in from his predecessors stock.
He had two bed sets, one for the living room and one for our bedroom.
He wasn't the jumper, swimmer or boater that any of his predecessors were either, but he did have his own special charms... he loved to play with the backyard hose and Daddy with any game he could think of, for they were true buddies all the way.
So in the end, today's final decision was his, Daddy's/ Hubby's.
A intelligent decision due to the facts of dear Gus's horrid too quick failing health diagrammed by his doctor!
Today is Monday and just last Thursday he was fine, yes absolutely FINE!
Friday was bit not too good, Saturday a bit more, but then Sunday was no different from Saturday, no better no worse.
Thus the visit to the veterinarian today.
He was not eating, had diarrhea, flopping not really walking, just moving a little then he would melt into a puddle onto the floor, not peeing just melt.
Even when after the doggy doc was called and Hubby tried to get him into the van, Hubby took the crate out for Gus to get into, but he couldn't even do that, and the one step into the garage Gus fell down, horribly missing it!
Hubby was very saddened by this downhill turn, and so was I!
Hubby fastened the lead around Gus and actually slid him into the crate.
Flashes of a replay of Skipper's, our Bichon Frise who died six weeks before we rescued Gus, he was ten and half at his death, also too young, and his was a inoperable stomach cancer also very aggressive, the similarity to Gus's too fast death played chilling déjà vu reruns that ran through both of our brains.
Just like that, in a blink of an eye, Gus was gone...so very very sad.
12-?-13 to 2-5-18. Hemorrhaging internally from in his stomach, pancreas, liver, and spleen cancer causing his wbc of 42000, and a rbc of 1, he would have starved to death. I asked the vet what to do if he was his and he said that he would euthanize him and so with much grief we did. So very young! Too young. He is at peace now somewhere in the hopeful afterlife world we pray is heaven or some such place. Farewell dear loving friend and companion till we meet gain...
