On Sept 1st , we wound up having our dog, Hank, put to sleep. I waited a bit to honor his memory so that I wouldn’t be a blubbering mess while writing about him. Hank was probably 13 years old, a huge mastiff/lab mix. We owned him for ten years.
We knew Hank before we owned him, he belonged to friends of ours. We liked him then and thought he was a sweet and funny dog. When our friends moved and needed a new home for Hank, we volunteered and got a new member of the family. We already had Mariah, and it was the two of them for several years before Laura’s dog Lars came along. He belonged to the family, but somehow he became “mine”.
Hank had a presence that I just can’t explain. He had quite the personality. I bet you that he wanted to talk to us. He was this huge goofball dog. He was always making us laugh. He liked to play and let me tease him, even as an older dog. He was a good sport. He was our protector- he always slept in front of the door, which none of our other dogs really ever did. He could look scary to protect us if he wanted to, but he was a wiggly puppy in an old dog’s body. We don’t know what he looked like as a puppy, but I bet he was real cute. I called him Flopdoodle cause if he was on his stomach and I was petting him, he’d flop over on his side, really hard and make this loud smack on the floor. It was so funny. If anytime he was standing next to you, he’d lean on you- all hundred pounds of him!
Hank was tall- you didn’t have to bend over to pet this dog. He could set his head on the kitchen table- look out, dinner! One time Mom made banana bread and had it sitting on the edge of the counter to cool- it was taller than the table, right? She left for a second and came back to Hank licking his chops! Um, thanks Mom, you made that for me, right? Anytime you said the word “bone”, he perked up and got excited. He was smart. He loved food.
I was the one to walk Hank the majority of the time. He would jump and dance around, so happy when we were walking. He liked to roll in the grass, too. But he was so good on a leash, especially considering he could’ve dragged me around if he’d wanted to. And we didn’t teach him that, he came that way. If he was in his pen and you came to the gate, he would jump straight up like 3 feet in the air! I don’t know how he didn’t figure out that he could probably jump over the gate!
Over the last few months, his health had gone downhill. He got real skinny and we started feeding him a rich midday meal in an attempt to put some meat on his bones. This was a dog that hoovered his food but now was losing interest in eating. His back end wore out too. He often couldn’t stand up fully but crouched. We started giving him doggie pain medication. We put a rug down for him cause he couldn’t get up on the slick floor. But then he’d go outside and jump and dance around like always- he was so silly. We didn’t want to admit it, but our Hanky was wearing out.
Hank was able to walk the Sunday morning before he passed, but when we got home from church he couldn’t get up or walk. He was this crumpled heap. For the next few days, when we needed to get him outside, it would take at least two people to heft his backend around, slung on a towel, while he moved his front legs. It broke my heart to see him sprawled on the front lawn, his back legs paralyzed- this was a dog that would escape and run and run and run if given the slightest chance- and here he was, untethered and unable to go anywhere. We had to feed him with a wooden spoon because he couldn’t eat very well while lying down.
We knew if this kept up (one time his back end went out but it came back) that we’d have to take him to the vet’s- and that the outcome would probably not be good. We had prayed for him but his back end would not come back. I came home from student teaching and we got Hank ready. Mom directed him while Laura and I hefted his back end around so that he could go to the bathroom before the car ride. It felt like being a pall bearer. It’s really awkward doing things when you know it’s probably going to be their last.
Hank went out with his boots on- we had hefted him over to the rear of the Jeep and were debating how to get this big dog inside the back (which is high off the ground) and Hank surprised us by somehow taking this flying leap and getting his front half in the car. I don’t know how he did this considering his back feet were paralyzed and not even touching the ground. Laura and I hefted the rest of him in and off we went. I sat in the back seat so I could pet him during the trip.
The vet came out to the car so that we wouldn’t have to heft Hank all the way in the vet’s office. She agreed that it was his time to go- there was nothing that could be done for his back legs and he couldn’t even feel it if you pinched his feet. Somehow he could still wag his tail, I guess that’s a different nerve. When the vet went back inside for her things, I found myself alone with Hank. I tried to make the most of the precious time we had left and I told him how much I loved him and how special he was to our family. Then they put him to sleep, I felt bad that it took several pokes to find a vein. I stayed in the back seat and patted him as he went. It’s really strange watching something die. I wore my big sunglasses in an attempt to hide my tears.
We took him back home and spent some time digging a really big hole next to Laura’s cat’s grave. Their graves are in a nice little spot in the woods by the pond. We wrapped him in a big off-white blanket and lowered him in. I went and cut four sunflowers, to represent our family of four and also to represent the sunshine he brought into our lives. I placed the sunflowers in the grave with him. Laura has the foresight to remove his collar, I was glad for us to have the memento. We said a prayer at his graveside.
Even in death, Hank was funny as always. When he died, his ear was straight up in the air like so often it was in real life when he was sleeping on his side. And it wouldn’t go back down either. When we got back home I looked out at our back sidewalk- and was surprised that Hank had left a big poop there when we had him out the last time. None of us realized he’d done that! We laughed at Hank’s Last Present.
Hank, thank you for being part of our family and giving us so much love and laughs. Thank you for putting up with us when we fell short. Thank you for being patient and kind. Thank you for being our protector. You were a noble creature. Thank you for being our gentle giant.
I feel guilty that we had to put him to sleep, but I also realize that there really wasn’t an alternative. He was probably in pain and deserved some relief. I picture him in Doggie Heaven just running and running for all he’s worth, with no fences to hold him back. I picture him being able to jump so high in the air again. That brings me some comfort.
Someday I’ll see him again.
In the meantime, it’s weird not to have him around. It’s weird not to walk him at night. It’s weird not to have him in front of the island and see him when you walk in the door- that was where he always was. When a hundred pound dog is gone from a 900 sq foot house, it’s pretty noticeable. He left a big imprint on us.
I walked him the night before his legs stopped working. Something told me to enjoy that time.
Waiting didn’t work, I’m still blubbering while writing this.
Bye for now Hank, we love you.
Hank was a regal creature:
My aunt sent me a matching coat:
Hank always crossed his paws ;)
Hank always smiled ;)
Hank, you were so funny.
Like hoovering your food:
And spinning around to lay down...and resting just your bum on the pillow:
Needing my slipper to rest your tail:
Hank, you were a good sport ;)
Hmm...why did we always trip over you?
Hank, you were a good friend.
Love you, Hank
