Shadow is gone.
In my last post, Not Looking Good for Our Hero, I told how we came home after Christmas to find Shadow barely able to walk. In just a few days, he lost the ability to stand on his own. Over the next few weeks, our local vet (whose entire staff gave him excellent care) treated him for a spinal embolism, a condition that often has a good outcome. When that showed no results and his condition worsened, we scheduled a consultation with a neurologist in Winston Salem. She suspected that Shadow either had a tumor on the spine in his neck, or a herniated disk—she couldn’t know for sure without an MRI. The tumor would not be treatable; the herniated disk had an 80% chance of getting him walking again with surgery.
Surgery presented a bigger issue. Shadow was nine, a senior citizen in dog years. If we opted for surgery, would we be prolonging his life for his sake or for ours? We agonized over this. I had been vocal, and perhaps glib, over my belief that many pet owners keep their pets alive too long simply because they can’t bear to say goodbye. And now, here I was, ready to do almost anything to keep him with us.
I know most of you who’ve had pets have had similar agonizing decisions. It is the price we pay to have the love and companionship of pets whose lifespans are so much shorter than ours, and it is always a wrenching one.
But the MRI surprised us. It showed that Shadow had had a spinal embolism after all. For reasons unknown, he was in the 15% of dogs who don’t recover with treatment. Actually, he’d had two strokes, and the damage to the nerves in his spine was extensive. He would never walk again. And so, the decision was made for us. We let him go.
Shadow, with his keen intelligence, his independence, his often maniacal energy, and his always amiable spirit, was truly the most interesting dog I’ve ever had. Admittedly, sometimes he was interesting in the Chinese curse sort of way.
He was a study in contradictions. He liked everyone, but was not especially affectionate with us, at least not until the last couple of years. He was a dog who liked his space. He loved treats, but often would not work for food, and would thoroughly sniff anything we offered him, because, hey, THIS time it just might be poison. He was loyalty impaired—a go-where-the-action-is kind of dog—and not averse to abandoning me during a walk if it started to rain, and race to the shelter of the porch.
A true country dog, he proved equally at home in the city when we had to travel to Utah to help care for my daughter and her children after she was diagnosed with stage four cancer. And, in his own way, he gave us all great comfort during that difficult, devastating time.
His antics taught me how little I knew about dogs and sent me in search of more knowledge. The terms “biddable” and “not biddable” weren’t in my vocabulary before Shadow, and because of him I bought my first clicker and books on positive reinforcement.
He learned early on to hold still if I raised my camera. After all, as I used to joke, he had “his public”, the many people from neighbors and friends to field workers and service people whom he befriended. More than once I had the occasion to meet someone for the first time only to discover they already knew Shadow. “He has more friends than we do,” I would complain to my husband. And it was true.
Shadow inspired a host of nicknames: Motormouth, the Barkster, Boing-Boing, The Ever-Ready Labradoodle, Jumping Jack, Bear-Bane, and Possum-Bane. Oh, how he loved to catch possums! I often said finding them was his super power. (Fortunately for the possums, his possum hunting was mostly a catch and release program.)
He inspired a book series. The Doodlebugged Mysteries came directly from observing Shadow, who would stare up at me, never breaking eye-contact, with an expression that clearly said, “Seriously?” He was his own dog, not a people-pleaser, even though he was always pleased to be around people. Doodle’s oft repeated mantra that “smart and obedient don’t go hand in hand” came straight from Shadow’s actions.
And now, we have said goodbye. We stand in sorrow with dog lovers the world over who have mourned the loss of a canine family member. As a meme circulating on Facebook says, “Having a dog will bless you with many of the happiest days of your life, and one of the worst.”
Fly away, home, Shadow. You truly were one of a kind. May you find woods to race through, logs to leap over, possums to catch, and bears to chase away, and may you live on, at least in part, in Doodle.
♥ ♥ ♥
Shadow also inspired one of my works in progress, Doodlewhacked, a nonfiction account of the challenges of raising him. If you are at all interested in Shadow or in Doodle, his alter ego, I would invite you to check it out on the link below. It’s running as a free serial here on my webpage.
Doodlewhacked
You know that perfect dog from your childhood? The one that did everything right, was intensely loyal and loved you more than anything? I had a dog like that once.
This is not the story of that dog.
Sue, I grieve with you for your loss, and am grateful that you shared Shadow with all of us.
With your permission, I’d like to share this post to my own blog. I have featured the Doodle series on multiple occasions and will continue to do so. Readers would, I think, appreciate the love behind the series.
Thanks, Susan. I had to share him. After all, he had his public. 🙂
And, yes, of course you’re welcome to share this on your website. I appreciate all the times you’ve let me post there!
Sincere condolences, Susan. They none of them live long enough.
Thanks, Rob.
Thank you so very much, Susan, for sharing Shadow/Doodle with all of us. He was such an energetic inspiration to his public. We will all miss him — even if we never met him in real life. Here’s hoping you will continue to share him with us through Doodle. I wish him the best in his new “home”.
Thanks, Lorene. The deer already seem to know he’s gone and are traipsing through our yard. And, as a neighbor said when telling Shadow goodbye, “It’s going to be a great day for the skunks and possums when you go.”
Shadow was your ever present friend and a great neighbor. I learned to love him through you post and I think everyone will miss his presence in our community. What a great life you gave him. A a kind farewell. We will hardly know you without you sidekick. Sorry for OUR loss and especially YOURS.
Thanks, Judy. I hope he’ll live on in part in the Doodle books. The great thing about fictional dogs is that they don’t have a lifespan. 🙂
Sue , This is beautiful What a wonderful thing to write an obit for your dog> I wish I had done this. I loved the fact that he was a bit of a naughty dog. All my dogs have been like that, especially AJ and my current Golden Bella. When we adopted her 5 years ago she was a quiet type B dog. How things have changed! She is now the supreme Diva heading for the title of Empress but it is our fault. We love her and spoil her. Glad you had a wonderful 9 years with Shadow. He sound like he was my kind of boy. RIP Shadow.
Thanks, Kathy. I hope that if Bella becomes Empress, she will be a benevolent one. 🙂 Wish I had known AJ.
Hi Susan,
I know your pain. I read your tribute with tears flowing . It is wonderful he will be with you forever in your memory and in your books. My first Aussie, Sydney, was my service dog character in my first novel. The last chapter took me days to write because I was reliving my good-bye again and again.
I wish you time to heal and to remember without heartache.
Sending hugs- Sheri
Thanks so much, Sheri. He is greatly missed, but writing about his exploits in Doodlewhacked is helping.
I felt your love for Sydney in your book.
Hugs!
Sue
*sniff* I’m so sorry! *hugs*
Thanks, Donna. So hard to say goodbye to our companions, but better than never having them share our lives.
I, too, had a similar painful and sudden experience with my sweet Maggie. ..playing ball on Tuesday and having to let her go on Saturday in July 2015. For her it was sudden onset grape toxicity. Grapes are toxic to dogs and I never gave them to her so it remains a mystery. Like you, I have always thought spending thousands of dollars on a senior pet in order to extend their lives for a few months was wrong. The money would be better spent if donated to canine medical research or a rescue group. That said, I found it surprisingly easy to hand over my AmEx card when it was my baby. I feel your pain and your post brought me to tears although I know neither one of you. I, too, am writing a book about Maggie, Kitten Whisperer/Gopher Killer, who mastered the art of selective hearing.
Thanks for writing that, Marci. Isn’t it surprising how quickly we cave when actually in the situation? So sorry about Maggie. Sounds like she was a soulmate to Shadow. (There are photos of Shadow at the vet with his kitten friends in the post, Not Looking Good for Our Hero https://www.susankroupa.com/2018/01/20/not-looking-good-for-our-hero/ .)
Good luck on the book!
Sue
Sue, I’m so sorry for your loss. Our dog Toby passed over the Rainbow Bridge last March and tears are streaming down my face as I relive the experience through your post. Toby was a runner, which made it so hard to watch him struggle when his hind legs collapsed on more than one occasion. The last straw was when he was unable to make an extremely short (for him) stroll on a level path. It was time and I sobbed for days. Writing about his life with us helped me remember the wonderful, and exasperating times with him. Toby was my heart dog and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Hold on to all of the great memories you have of Shadow and smile as you relive those experiences. Love, Jeri
Thanks, Jeri. It sounds like Toby was a great dog. It’s always hard to say goodbye, especially to those dogs like Toby (and Shadow) who found a special place in our hearts.
I love the doodle books. I have read the first two and am looking forward to reading more. I have had many dogs throughout my life. But there are three who were my heart dogs. My first dog, my Angel who came to two weeks after my wonderful husband died of cancer, and my beautiful small poodle mix (corgi?), who I lost two months ago. I share your pain, but also cherish the wonderful memories.
Angela, thanks for writing. I’m delighted you like the Doodle books! It’s always encouraging to hear from readers. My condolences on losing your spouse and on losing the heart dogs. Someone wrote that a dog gives you the best days of your life, and then the worst day. I wonder sometimes if the too-short lifespan of dogs isn’t there to teach us how to move on, and, as you wrote, cherish the memories.