Doganasia

Max had stopped eating, not even tempted by strips of chicken. Sometimes he’d gulp down water, but walkies was a place he didn’t want to go. He was an old man that sometimes raised his head from his cushion in the corner of the kitchen and looked on. A smart dog than knew it was time to go. The vet was good with the old man. That’s their job. I counted  fifteen pictures on the practice wall. It’s an industry. You hear the horror stories of dogs need CAT scans that cost £2000 and brace yourself. It’s not about money, but would I have paid that amount? The answer is no, but my partner would have said yes. She paid for the pills and potions that never worked. The worse was for his stomach when we had to prise his jaws apart and syringe a goo into the back of his mouth. The dog didn’t like it. I didn’t like it, but we did it. Well, I did it once. I’m old fashioned. A dog should be seen and not heard and sometimes not even seen. I did admire how smart Max was though. When his owner was drunk he used to leave him and come to us. He’d wait at our back or front door until we came home and then slink inside. Drunks bored him. He could jump up and flick at the door handle to get in and out of a room. He didn’t want to stay and that was his way. No fuss. The vet said a heart murmur: a four out of six. Cancer-that scary word- that had metastased from his reproductive organs to God knows where. His back legs were arthritic and he tried to weave a drunk run, but stumbled on the three stairs into our house. If I remember rightly famers have the highest suicide rate. I like to think they recognise the cyclic nature of things, but it’s probably just because they have access to guns. I would have took Max outside and shot him. He had a long life and a good life for a dog. Sorting through his stuff it seemed hard to believe, but it was documented, he’d spent a year and a half in Dumbarton pound, unwanted, until a half- wit and his half-wit girlfriend thought they needed a dog. Two half-wits don’t make a whole. Max was our dog. I wasn’t there at the end. I’ve no interest in that side of things. Max it seemed didn’t need a sedative. He just lay down. The strange thing was Max used to get teased so he would talk to us. We lifted our chins and making sharp barking sounds. He’d lift his head and chin and speak to us in reply. Seemingly, just before he went he lifted his chin and howled to say goodbye.