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| Ghenges: His Story |
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| Good Dog |
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| Ghenges: His Story Hello, we haven't met though you have heard of me. I am a large German Shepherd with a bad history of abuse, who was rescued by my master almost ten years ago. This is the end of my story. The phone rang, it was Dr. Berdan, "I'm so sorry, it is cancer. We can remove the leg but in my experience, it is not very successful, after removing the leg, in a few months it is in the lung, and I would not want to put him through that when at the most it only prolongs the life a couple of months. Or, there is radiation, again this has not been very successful and only prolongs the suffering. I can't make these decisions for you." "How long?" "Probably two to four months. When he starts to cough, that's an indication that it is in the lungs and then we will have to make some decisions." "What do we do in the meantime?" "Continue with the prednizone for what ever relief it offers. I wish I had something more to offer, I know how hard this is." Because I am so big, my mistress tried not to give me too many treats. That all changed, almost every time she came in from the kitchen she'd bring me a treat. They began giving me bigger portions of leftovers. My master said, "there's nothing in your diet going to hurt you now, Buddy." I continued to take the prednizone until it ran out, and aspirin in the evenings. My master still slept in his recliner to be near me, and I still took care of my duties as their protector. Did I tell you that my master put my medication in peanut butter? I really do like peanut butter, so do Casper and Cheyenne. My master would put the pills in peanut butter and give it to me, then he would give each of them a spoon full of peanut butter so they wouldn't feel left out. My master is so good that way. I started going to the kitchen and looking at the counter where they kept the peanut butter. My master said, "I don't know if he knows the pills are to help him or if he just want's peanut butter." I never did lose my appetite, and I didn't know I was sick, I only knew that my knee hurt bad, and the discomfort was traveling up my left side. When my master or mistress would pet my left hip, shoulder or even behind my left ear I would curl my lip. I had used up all my pills and my mistress was going the next day to pick up some more. That night Casper brought in the cover off a baseball, I took it away from him and played with it a while. Then he brought in a doggie chew toy, so I took that away from him and played with it. I'm not going to let some young whipper snapper show me up, even if I do hurt. When my master came home the next day for lunch, I tried to get off my loveseat to greet him. I fell. My mistress was in her office working on her computer and heard my master yelling at Casper to get out of the way. She could tell by the tone of his voice that something was wrong. She came in out of her office and said, "What's wrong?" "He fell off the couch trying to get up!" my master answered with tears in his eyes. "Should I pick up his pills or should I make an appointment?" my mistress asked. "I suppose you better make an appointment." She went into her office to make the call, my master came in and said, "make it for tomorrow." She made the appointment for 11:00 a.m. "I'd like to go with you, or would you rather be alone?" "You can go, call the humane society and find out about cremation too." So she made the calls. The next morning my master didn't go to work. At 10:30 he put up my ramp and I got into the pickup, and once more we met at Dr. Berdan's office, When we went into the examining room my mistress asked if they were going to put me on the table. "No, I think he'd be more comfortable on the floor." Dr. Berdan answered. My master got down on his knees and told me to lay down. Dr. Berdan got down on his knees too and put some alcohol on my foreleg. He started to put a needle into my leg and I snapped at him a little, just to warn him to be careful. My master said, "That's okay Buddy, he's not trying to hurt you. He's going to make the hurt go away." He softly stroked my head speaking all the time in that wonderful soothing voice. My mistress knelt and stroked my back saying, "We love you, Ghengie, you're a good boy. Everything is going to be better, you won't hurt any more." I layed my head on my master's knee and went to sleep. The last thing I heard were their loving voices telling me I was a GOOD DOG! |
| Wenatchee | WA | 98807-2163 |
 ptl2163@aol.com |
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