Shane

On Tuesday my dog, Shane, passed away. He had been deteriorating for a long time, but it was still so hard to come home from school and be told he's gone.
He was sixteen when he died, so we knew it was coming. But still, nothing can prepare one for when it actually happens. My mom had to call the mobile vet. An organization of veterinarians who go to peoples houses in a large 'mobile' vet clinic. Honestly, the large truck in my driveway seemed almost comical in proportion tot he house and surrounding cars. I might have laughed if not for the implications.
I knew he was dying a week before he actually died. Last Monday I pulled out his leash to signal it was time for a walk, usually he bounds right up tail and butt wagging with pleasure. Runs to the door and eagerly awaits his leash. Not that day, it took quiet a bit of coaxing to get him out the door. He did not leap out of the doorway and bound down the driveway like usual. After only a few minutes he stopped, and lied down. I knew something horrible was wrong with him. Dogs do not simply LIE DOWN when on a walk. He wouldn't get up, I was certain he was dying. Eventually, he did get up and we went home. I knew his time was nearly up, but it still came as a horrific surprise to find him dead.
I can't quiet describe it, but seeing him wrapped up in his blanket was...there are no words. The very luster in his fur was gone. He seemed paler than when he was alive. And so still, (obviously) He might have been asleep, but I knew better.
Now that I'm older I've been taking care of all our animals forming closer more intimate bonds with them. As a little kid I didn't partake in this, I didn't developed the same kinds of connections. When our dog, Moose, died I was only five. I didn't really understand that he was dead, I thought he was going to come back. Kizmet died when I was seven, we went to the vet for him to be put down. I couldn't understand why we were leaving without him. However, now that I'm older I understand what death is. I take care of the animals so when they pass it devastated me. My first 'true' experience with putting an animal down was with Phoenix, the cat we rescued off the street.
We rescued Shane when he was six years old. He was living in a crack house tied up in the backyard, no food, no shelter, no water and was probably abused. (he hated things in front of his face, he bark and growl at anything that came close to his face, especially hands) He was shy and nervous at first. But quickly warmed up to us. He became one of the most loyal, loving dogs I ever knew. He's howl at firetrucks and curl up on top of you during a lighting storm.
I love you my little tanman. I miss you so much.
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My painting techniques are getting better. I'm quiet happy with the result. Already better than my LAST canine bust. The eyes were the funest part. ^-^ The anatomy was quiet a pain though. Ug, and I still don't like the nose. >>; Oh well.
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(c) Denece-the-sylcoe