The last ride

“Come on old mate, let’s go for a drive”

Ronin lifted his head from his bed and looked at me. I had his lead in my hand although I knew we wouldn’t need that today, I just thought it would help make it all seem a bit more normal. The momentary burst of excited energy in his eyes, unfortunately, couldn’t be matched by his old legs, as he tried to lift himself up the pain shot through his body, he let out a little whimper and lay back down. I knelt next to him, put my hand on his back, and said, “It’s ok buddy, I’ll…” but I couldn’t finish the sentence. The tears started to well in my eyes again, I tried wiping them away with my arms. Instead of talking, I ran my hand along his old fur hoping he wouldn’t notice how upset I was.

It had been a tough night and an even tougher morning. The phone call yesterday afternoon from the veterinarian had confirmed that several of the tumors were touching on his spine and that he would be in immense pain. It hadn’t been an easy decision to make, but the options were to prolong his life a short amount of time and have him continue in pain or have him put to sleep. I had been tormented over this decision; he’d been a part of my life for 16 years. I’ve known him longer than I have known my wife. He’d been there for the other relationship break-ups and life’s challenges, ever the loyal friend, I wasn’t sure that I was ready to say goodbye just yet.

He was your classic story of boy meets girl, girl loves dogs, you get a puppy to impress girl, girl runs away with one of your best friends, you’re left with the dog. An oversimplification but that’s basically how Ronin and I ended up together. He was a fussy eater, got himself hit by a car at a young age that cost me a heap at the veterinarians, and as one friend said, “Just as well he’s cute because he’s not very bright”. All that aside, he was a good dog, and a bitsa breed, you know “he’s a bitsa this, a bitsa that…” Not angry except if he felt really threatened and was great with kids; my nephew was about 4 months old when I put him down next to Ronin and he just accepted his fate as a plaything. All reasons why saying goodbye was going to be so hard.

As I slid my hands underneath him, I could feel his heart pounding. I made sure that I got hold of him in the spots least likely to hurt him. My wife, Andrea opened the back door to the car, and I put him on the seat. As I stood up, she looked at me and saw my eyes red, which set off the chain reaction and she started to cry again. I stretched out my arms to hug her briefly and then whispered, “Come on, let’s get going”. It was only a five-minute drive, but it felt like an eternity, there were several attempts to skip songs because they just added to the sadness in the vehicle. Although “We Will Rock You” by Queen may not have been the most fitting song in the circumstances, I needed to drive and not be a blubbering mess.

I parked in front of the vet surgery; Donna had been Ronin’s vet since he was a pup. She had berated me in the past for not being on time for his vaccinations, but she’d also gotten good money out of me because he’d only eat the high-priced dog food that she sold and there was the whole getting hit by a car thing. When the automatic doors opened, Donna saw me straight away, she didn’t say anything and just waved her hand towards the operating room. We walked through and the stainless-steel table was clear. “Just put him down on the table”, Donna said in a quiet voice as she closed the door behind her. Considering the less pleasant times Ronin had experienced in this room (including getting neutered) he was incredibly calm.

I was glad that I had talked through with Donna the night before what the procedure would be, I don’t know that I would have held it together as she talked through things with us now. Donna wheeled a chair over so that I could sit at eye height with Ronin, his eyes looking at mine as if he was trying to comfort me while I was trying to comfort him. As I sat there, I felt Andrea’s hand on my shoulder, I didn’t turn my head, but I could hear her crying. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think either of us would be this emotional over an animal that had eaten his fair share of expensive shoes, a remote control, and one of Andrea’s bras (it was the teal one that pushed her boobs up nicely, we were both shattered over that loss).

I didn’t watch anything that Donna was doing, I couldn’t bring myself to. I sat there with my arms around him keeping him calm. When I could talk, I said, “There boy, it’s alright”, although it most certainly was not going to be alright. The rest of the time I couldn’t talk at all, I cried, I patted his head, I was losing my mate, and it hurt. I watched as his big old eyes started to look weary, I knew that he didn’t have long now, so I leaned in and rested my head on him. I could hear Andrea standing behind me bawling, Ronin didn’t make a sound, after a minute his chest stopped rising and falling, and he was gone.

I stayed there with him for another half an hour or so, Donna left us alone there to grieve. Andrea and I held each other as we cried and rested our hands on his body. Then I picked him up and took him back out to the car. We sat in silence the whole drive home, no music, nothing to say.

I buried him in the middle of the garden. It seemed fitting to put him there since he had exerted so much effort over the years to dig it up himself.

It’s been ten years buddy and I still miss you.