Storm is now on the last medication that can help him. He’s been back to the specialists. Thing is that what he has cannot be cured. He cannot ever again run and jump for a tennis ball, come for a walk around the village with me, try to catch snowballs. We are so very close to that point where we have to consider his quality of life, if we would be keeping him alive for us rather than him. He doesn’t even come upstairs now – and he would more often than not come and sleep on the floor next to my side of the bed. He hasn’t walked more than 100 yards at once, he is not eating. And yet he wags his tail every time I go to stroke him, talk to him. And he is only 3.

2 thoughts on “LCS

  1. When I was a young fella we had a dog. It was my dog as I got to pick this one. We had dogs all through the years and whoever picked it, it was ‘their’ dog. But really a family dog.

    He was a mongrel and a little bugger. But I loved him as I’ve loved every single dog I’ve owned. Must have had some form of ‘ratter’ in him as he’d dive into everything and anything, it was his downfall as the stupid little arse caught Weils Disease. Horrible thing to have.

    The vet said he could be cured after about ten months on antibiotics and goodness knows what other medication. He was slightly contagious though so had to be kept by himself. And it would be hard.

    No problem, says me. He’s my dog, I love him, I want him to be here, I’ll help him. He’s part of the family.

    That first night I listened to him coughing and sneezing in the next room, where I’d built him a den to make him comfortable. Then he’d cry because he was lonely. He was a bugger but he was a social bugger.

    I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I grew up a little bit, and realised what was best for him. I asked my Father if he could take him to the Vet and I went for a long walk along the coast for most of the day. I’d grown up a bit but not enough to be able to make that trip.

    It shattered my heart. But truth be told, the same as it has for every dog I’ve owned. Even if they’ve lived a good long life.

    He was two. Not long enough for all the fun times we were supposed to have. He was my dog.

    But…I wouldn’t have wished that disease on my worst enemy…maybe. Ten months is a lifetime for a young dog.

    I still think of that dog thirty years later. Still miss him. Ive never regretted it.

    1. I’ve thought hard, very hard about that decision. What keeps me from making it just yet is the specialist has changed the meds and has hope. The time is close, I know it is but he deserves the chance for these meds.

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