On Saturday, September 16 my best friend lay his head on my lap and took his last breath. His huge heart stopped beating, and he wasn't in pain anymore.
I adopted Sebastian in October 2000, when he was just five months old. His previous owners had abandoned him as an eight week old puppy, dumped him in a yard during a thunderstorm.
He was my constant companion, my hiking buddy, my trail riding buddy, and my roommate. I always joked that he was the reason I'm still single -- because since I already lived with someone who belched, farted, and never cleaned up after himself, why go through all the trouble of dating and getting married?
He went through five levels of formal obedience training (just for fun, he loved it!) and he got his CGC and TT certificates. He had a passion for working and lit up when we were at the barn, working with the horses or out on a trail ride. He stayed right with me and my horse, no matter how many other horses were out on trail, no matter how many deer or wild turkey or rabbits we saw. Sebastian happily jogged beside my horse.
Everything was an adventure to him, everything was like an exciting new discovery. Hardly a day went by that he didn't do something to make me laugh out loud. And some days. . .especially in his younger years, there were days he came close to driving me insane. But I mean that in the best possible way.
People - friends, neighbors, vets, even total strangers -- loved him and commented on his excellent behavior and gentlemanlike manners. If we were hiking and another dog on trail started barking or lunging, Sebastian would just look at them like "I don't know what your problem is. I'm hiking with Mom. Chill."
He was diagnosed with osteosarcoma just a couple of weeks ago. Just six years old.
Of course there were other "options." He could be medicated to help the pain, he could start chemo or have the leg amputated. . .but that wonderful dog deserved better. It was unfair to keep him around, medicating him so he was in "less" pain, preventing him from doing so many of the things he loved to do just because it hurt him too much.
Of course it hurts. . .but he went peacefully. . .and he didn't get to the point where his life was reduced to nothing but suffering. He was just a "throwaway" dog, a too-tall, lanky Rottweiler with a half-length tail. . .but he had an amazing life and I'm glad I got to share those six years with him.
Have fun at the Bridge, buddy. . .