I had to euthanize my dog today. Colossus entered our lives right after my divorce, eight years ago. It was just the three of us: my daughter, son, and me, all reeling from the shock of having our lives torn apart and experiencing a significant shift in dynamics.
We had a large house that suddenly felt lonely, and we were filled with sadness and a sense of unease for our safety. My daughter was studying and frequently traveling for her studies, which left only my son and me at home most of the time.
One day while shopping, we entered a pet store and noticed a Rottweiler lingering in the back. He appeared fully grown and as forlorn and lonely as we were.
In the front, other cute, furry, and more extravagant dogs caught my son’s attention, prompting him to say, “Oh, let’s get these dogs.” However, there was something about that Rottweiler that captivated me.
I requested the staff to bring him out, and they obliged. He seemed distant and slightly fearful of us, carrying an air of defensiveness that suggested he had been mistreated or yelled at in the past.
We took him for a short walk, and although still reserved, he obediently followed along. He must have been over a year old already. Not many people would choose an adult Rottweiler, but our family always had a connection with the breed, and we felt compelled to provide him with a better life.
He came home with us, and we spent hours playing with him. I vividly recall the first day he arrived, my son gleefully running around the garden with Colossus playfully chasing him. He seamlessly settled into our home and became an integral part of our family.
Unlike my two children, I didn’t have much time to spend with him. I was always occupied with work, arriving home late, briefly patting his head, and then attending to my tasks.
However, my kids would devote hours to him, buying toys and treats, and showering him with affection. He was a friendly boy but also protective. We knew that as long as Colossus was present, no one would dare enter our house – he was simply too imposing.
Approximately two years ago, typical issues associated with larger purebred dogs arose. His knees and legs began to give him trouble. We pursued surgery, but one problem led to another.
Finally, about a month ago, the vet discovered through X-rays that he had bone cancer. There was nothing more we could do for him besides administering prescribed medication. His condition deteriorated rapidly from that point onwards. Today, my daughter informed me that his breathing was laboured, and pus was oozing from various parts of his body. We made the agonizing decision to put him to sleep.
Dogs have always been a part of my family for as long as I can remember. It breaks my heart to hold them as they tremble and feel their breath fade away when the time comes to say goodbye. Knowing that I am responsible for their fate creates a delicate balance between empathizing with their pain and experiencing our own.
I still have three more hours before I return home, and the vet arrives at the house to provide him with his final rest. It marks the end of an era.
Today, my mind drifts back to a beautiful poem I included in the first edition of Petworld, a publication I created 25 years ago from a room in my rented house.
“There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.
It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of all its beautiful colours.
It is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass.
When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place.
There is always food and water and warm spring weather.
The old and frail animals are young again.
Those who were sick, hurt or in pain are made whole again.
There is only one thing missing,
they are not with their special person who loved them so much on earth.
So each day they run and play until the day comes
when one suddenly stops playing and looks up!
The nose twitches! The ears are up!
The eyes are staring and this one runs from the group!
You have been seen and when you and your special friend meet,
you take him in your arms and hug him.
He licks and kisses your face again and again — and you look once more into the eyes of your best friend and trusting pet.
Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together never again to be apart.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
