Rest In Peace, My Love

On Saturday, March 10, 2012, I lost my dog, Quigley. He was a 6-year-old dachshund/lab mix. When he was a puppy, he was abandoned. He and his 8 brothers and sisters were rescued and brought to a shelter. Nobody adopted them for whatever reason, and they were to be put down the next day. A woman from a dog rescue stepped up and volunteered to foster all of them. At the same time, my guinea  pig, Paprika, was dying from some sort of cancer that caused him to bloat and made him unable to use his back legs. I had spent that entire summer force-feeding Paprika around the clock every 3 hours. He ended up dying in August of 2005, around the same time Quigley was born. My family was mourning the loss of our 6-year-old piggy when my mom told a 12-year-old me that she wanted to get a puppy. We looked at pet adoption sites and decided on a puppy named Peanut.

School had started, and I came home crying from a generally bad day. I looked at Peanut's page online to find that he had been adopted. My mom told me that she had found the most adorable puppy in the world up for adoption on petfinder.com. I saw his picture and immediately knew that he was the one for us.

My mom and I had not told my dad that we were looking at puppies, but my mom took my brother and me to see him in October at Petsmart. We filled out an application for adoption, and were told to expect an email later that week. The next day, Sunday, my mom received an email from the foster mom telling us what supplies we would need for him, what kind of food he ate, and something I will never forget, "I will bring him on Thursday. Expect the pup to stay."

I'm not sure when my mom told my dad that we were adopting a puppy, but he didn't resist too much when we showed him the picture. Quigley's foster-mom showed up on Thursday afternoon, with my new puppy slung under one arm. She walked carefully up our steep, crooked driveway, and knocked on our door with her free hand. My mom made me sit still in the living room while she answered the door. The foster-mom set Quigley on the floor when she entered our living room, and he immediately ran to the floor-to-ceiling mirror and started jumping on it. When he realized that it wasn't another puppy, he looked at me with his huge amber eyes and his brow furrowed, like I was some sort of magician.

As the email said, the pup stayed. Training him was very easy. He had only one accident in the house as a puppy. He went through obedience training 3 times, and he graduated with high honors each time. Our walks went from him dragging me around to him walking neatly at my side.

Quigley grew up and turned into a very intelligent, but strange dog. He was far from perfect, but everyone he met loved him (if he didn't try to bite them). He could be temperamental sometimes, especially when someone tried to get too close to our house. My dog was really quirky. He didn't jump on any furniture except for the futon on our back porch or any of his own beds, including the beanbag chair that he stole from me when he was a puppy. He had personality for sure.

 

 

Doing his sexy pose

How he spent every summer

His favorite Halloween costume

Mid-bark snapshot after I told him how cute he is

One day he stepped on a piece of glass and cut his paw. He had to get  a little shard cut out from the webbing between his toes. We had to put a cone on his head so he wouldn't lick at the bandaging. Every dog absolutely hates the cone, and of course he tried to get it off at first. However, once he realized that he got attention if he wore it, he hated when we took it off. He wore it for several days, and seemed depressed when we had to take it off.

This past January, it seemed that Quigley had a bulging disc in his neck. The X-ray and blood work was inconclusive, though. He seemed to be in a lot of pain, so we put him on steroids and painkillers. He slowly started to decline. I came home from school in early February to find him lethargic, but still my same old Quigley. He still enjoyed his daily walks and ate more than he should have. I went back to school, confident that he would bounce back from whatever this was.

I was wrong.

I came home for spring break. My father had warned me that he was very sick and to expect the worst while we were in the car when he picked me up. We arrived at my house, and I opened the door to see that my dog was no longer my dog. He had lost about 10 pounds, and he could no longer use his front right paw due to a pinched nerve. He needed help using the stairs to go outside, and he didn't move more than necessary.


I spent as much time with him as humanly possible. He had good days and bad days.

At the beginning of last week, his belly started bloating severely. I had come home just in time to see the worst in him, and I knew it was almost the end.

Thursday, March 8, 2012:

I talked to our vet while I was at work. He said that it was hard to tell, but due to the bloating, he thought it might be cancer. I guess we'll never find out.

Friday, March 9, 2012:

In the morning, Quigley seemed to be doing very well. His bloating wasn't as bad as it had been, and he was having a good day. I got home from work around 6pm. He had been lying in his beanbag chair. I asked him if he had to go outside, and he just sat there whimpering. Eventually he pulled himself to his feet with his 3 good paws. I led him to the door and helped him outside. He was having trouble standing by himself. He fell over while peeing. His belly looked horribly distended and visibly bloated. I helped him inside and he laid down in his beanbag chair. He whimpered all night long.

Saturday, March 10, 2012:

I woke up early to see how my puppy was. He was in his beanbag chair, whining, panting, and shaking miserably. He had not stood up yet. Suddenly, he struggled to his feet and hobbled into the kitchen toward the side door. He let his bowels loose all over the floor, the second accident he had ever had in his life.

I cleaned up the kitchen and went to sit with my puppy in the living room. My dad called the vet and asked him to come to our house that day as soon as possible. He couldn't make it until 2, but he said that I could come pick up a sedative to make Quigley more comfortable. I was completely numb. I drove out there and took the pill bottle, receiving hugs from everyone. I drove back and gave him his pills. It was 11 am. Quigley spent the rest of his life heavily sedated with me at his side.

The last picture ever taken of Quigley on February 4, 2012

At 1:30, my friend, Danny, who is a vet tech at the clinic where I work called my cell phone. He said that he and my best friend, Rachel, with whom I have worked for 3 years could come over now. I told them to come over.

They pulled up in our driveway. Danny carried a black medical bag and Rachel had a blanket.

When Quig was gone, they wrapped him in the blanket. Danny handed the bag to Rachel and lifted Quigley off the floor. He walked carefully down our steep, crooked driveway, and carefully placed my puppy into the back seat of his car. That was the last time I saw my puppy.

All I want to say is rest in peace, my love. I miss you horribly, and I don't know what I will do without you.