Farewell Mojo
My son adopted a dog about 11 years ago. His three children were nine twins) and six at that time. Mojo was a lively pup who blended into the very active family. When I first met him, this medium-sized brindle dog scared me. He had a loud bark and a tail resembling a whip. He was friendly but didn’t care to be petted too much, and his facial expression always made me think he was angry! He quickly settled in with his adopted family. He was just over four months old, lived with them in Connecticut, and then moved to Virginia Beach about five years later. Like most pets, he was an integral part of the family. Mojo would accompany the family to my house on most holidays and visits. He thought of us as grandparents.
I went to visit the family last month. The twins, now in college, were at school, and I used my granddaughter’s room for the night. Mojo stayed with me and spent the night on the bed. Once he was up there, it would take a crane to move him. He was his old peppy self and allowed me to pet him quite a bit.
I noticed he had lost weight, although he was still peppy and eating everything he was offered. It was hard to tell from his behavior that something wasn’t right.
A few days ago, he simply would not get up; he didn’t eat, and it was evident that something was very wrong. My son took him to the vet and was informed that Mojo’s kidneys were failing. There was no easy answer as to why all of a sudden this was happening. At first, they thought that if they had hydrated him and given him a shot of antibiotics, perhaps he would have reacted quickly. It was to no avail. The decision was made to euthanize him.
My grandchildren made it their business to get home from their respective schools, and of course, my other granddaughter was at home.
The weather was awful, and the effects of Hurricane Helene made the trip home for both of them difficult. They persevered and were all present when Mojo fell asleep for the last time. My granddaughter wrote to me,
“Mojo just went, surrounded by loved ones, giving him pets and kisses.”
Until I was a dog owner myself, I would never have understood the emotion that goes with the death of a dog, a beloved pet. There is an uncommon bond between our pets and ourselves. It is quite a wonder how we can communicate with other species. Do they look at us as if we were the same as them?
It made me think about euthanasia. We are much kinder to our pets than we are to each other.
Wouldn’t it be more humane and much kinder to be able to release those who suffer from physical and mental conditions from which there is no release, no treatment, no possible cure, to die peacefully with their loved ones around them? I am not here to argue this point. I am simply stating that we don’t let our animals suffer like we do with human end-of-life issues.
