R.I.P., Oliver

[KBCraig]

Some of you met Mary's Unexpected Twist, Oliver, at PorcFest 2006. He was our standard poodle.

We laid him beneath the grass today, in a shady spot under Mary's favorite tree. He was almost 17 years old, and had been with Mary literally every day of his life.

He was a great dog. He didn't take up much space, but he's going to leave a huge hole.

[Pat K]

   he was a good doggie.

[Tom Sawyer]

Yeah, they do leave a memory and a missing place in your life... celebration of the purity of the love of a dog.

[KBCraig]

It strikes me what a great example he was for people to emulate: he was faithfully devoted to one person as his special "one", but loved and greeted everyone with equal and open affection. He was boss to no one, and bossed by no one. He treated all as equals, and asked only the same in return. He didn't have time for dominance wars, and ignored those who tried to start them.

He never aggressed against man nor beast, but on the couple of occasions where he was attacked, he was in it to win it. When the brother-in-law's lab mix decided he was going to prove just who was the boss stud dog in the house, he had 40 pounds on Oliver. Oliver would have killed him if not for human intervention. Never bet against the calm, confident, wiry one. 

Despite his very advanced years, it's only the last year that he showed any signs of age. He became mostly deaf, and cataracts clouded his eyes. He lost his natural springy step, and was sometimes stiff when rising, until he had a chance to stretch.

We had discussed end-of-life measures, of course. It was just so hard to know when the time was right, because other than sleeping more and bumping into things due to blindness, he was a very happy and content dog.

And then, he had a seizure. Convulsion. We suspect a stroke. He thrashed on the floor for fifteen minutes, with both of us trying to calm him and protect him. When it subsided, he was very slow to get up, then wanted out, then regained his muscle control and ran all about the yard as if he was looking for something.

He had profound neurological changes. He used his nose and limited vision to find his way around the yard, yet kept crashing into things. We took him inside, and he did the same inside the house, getting tangled in chairs and banging into walls. He didn't seem frantic or afraid, just like he was on a mission.

The clincher was that he no longer recognized us. He didn't fight us, didn't resist our touch (his basic nature, again), he just wanted to get away after whatever he was pursuing. He didn't respond like Oliver. He no longer was Oliver.

With tears all around, I told Mary that only she could make the call, but I thought it was time to go see the vet. She agreed.

We were gone about 30 minutes, and when we got back Daniel (our 17 year old) had not only picked the perfect spot, he had almost finished the digging. The heat index was 104 in the mid-day Texas sunshine.

The five of us said our goodbyes and gently laid him 'neath the sod.

He can never be equalled, nor replaced.

[Raineyrocks]

Some of you met Mary's Unexpected Twist, Oliver, at PorcFest 2006. He was our standard poodle.

We laid him beneath the grass today, in a shady spot under Mary's favorite tree. He was almost 17 years old, and had been with Mary literally every day of his life.

He was a great dog. He didn't take up much space, but he's going to leave a huge hole.

'


I'm sorry.