Lawrence Person's Futuramen

Friday, March 9, I had to have Jigsaw, my faithful canine companion of over 13 years, put to sleep.

I picked him up at Town Lake Animal Shelter through Gold Ribbon Rescue way back in December 2004, having finally bought my house earlier in the year and having already gone through GRR’s grueling vetting process.

Jigsaw started out as an unrestrained riot of affection. He wanted to chew through everything (including a nylon leash and a shoe, just his first night!) and jump excitedly on everyone who came through the door. Over the years he calmed down a bit, but he was well into his golden years before losing his puppish enthusiasm for jumping to greet people.

He loved swimming, chasing balls (though not so much dropping them), seeing people, and playing with other dogs; all the usual Golden Retriever joys. Going out to the regular GRR swim events, and having people come over to the house, were among his favorite things. (I’ll always remember that whenever we went to a GRR event, he loved swimming, but he always wanted to keep me in sight at all times, evidently scared I might leave him. He was always overjoyed to see me when I got back from trips to pick him up at my parents house.)

Age mellowed him into a dog all my friends loved.

I’ll always remember my father, in home hospice care for his own terminal cancer, scratching Jigsaw’s ears at his bedside.

Fourteen is a ripe old age for a Golden Retriever. I asked my vet how he was doing for his age. She said “I don’t know. They don’t usually live this long.”

I’d had false alarms with his health before. A couple of years ago he had increasing trouble getting up and down the stairs, and after long car trips he wouldn’t be able to stand for a while. Starting him on pain medication, and a round of antibiotics, seemed to fix that.

Then last year, when I adopted Avery, a black lab mix, to keep him company, she ran him ragged the first couple of days, to the point the same problems started to assert themselves. But slowly, with another upped medicine dosage, he got back to his old self, and was back to getting up and down the stairs without trouble.

I had suspected he had cancer for some time, but the first ultrasound last year was inconclusive, and I kept his pain under control with medication. But he started slowly but steadily losing weight the last few months. He’d still eat, but not as much, and stopped eating his dry food at all.

Finally, it got to the point he wasn’t pooping or peeing properly, probably due to (I found out a couple of weeks ago) inflamed lymph nodes near his spine. And when they finally got a good ultrasound of his bladder last week, the walls looked thickened, making cancer the likely culprit.

Finally, on Thursday night he had stopped eating entirely. And after two short walks that night, Friday morning his rear legs couldn’t support him at all. He walked about ten feet into the front yard and then feel down and lay in the grass.

It was time.

Here are some pictures of him over the years.

From his last day:

He was a good dog, and I’m going to miss him very, very much.