Friday morning began in the quiet hours of the night. Sometime before the sun came up, Austin had woken up my wife so she could take him outside to potty. I still don’t know how she does it, but she has always had this instinct with him, some unspoken connection that lets her know when he needs her. Even when she’s asleep, she just knows.

She helped guide him outside, holding his body as they stepped into the yard. And then out of nowhere, Austin started walking around the yard. Not just a few careful steps, but actually moving around, exploring a little. He also made an effort to walk to his potty area in the corner of the yard, It was something he hadn’t done in months. 

That morning, for a moment it looked like some of that old strength had come back. 

My wife was ecstatic. 

She kept telling me that maybe all he needed was some medication from the vet. Maybe we could even take him to the snow after his appointment.

While she held on to that hope, I started getting Austin’s things ready for the drive to his appointment with Dr. G. I set up his ramp so he could climb into the trunk of the SUV, placed his dog bed and blankets inside to make the ride a little more comfortable, then grabbed his leash, face mask, and harness.

When everything was finally in place, I walked over to him and said, “Are you ready, Squish?” Squish was the nickname I gave him because I loved wrapping both my arms around him and giving him the biggest hugs.

He looked right at me, no hesitation at all and got up on his own.

Normally he needed help getting to his feet, but he stood up without anyone lifting him up. 

Together we headed toward the back of the SUV. 

I slipped his harness underneath his belly and guided him toward the ramp while my wife followed right behind him. Austin had never liked using that ramp. Most of the time he resisted or tried to find another way up. But this time, he walked right up like he was ready to go.

I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t slip or slide around during the drive so I rode in the back of the SUV with him, laying beside him on his bed and blankets.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly and he leaned into me in a way he never had before. 

Usually, he would only tolerate my hugs for a minute or two before giving me the nudge that meant, “Get off me.” But this time was different. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed himself against me and stayed there for the entire ride.

When we finally pulled into the parking lot of the veterinarian’s office, it was time to help him out. 

Normally we would guide him down the ramp, but this time Austin didn’t want to use it. Maybe he felt dizzy or maybe his vision had started to blur. I was about ready to call a staff member for some help, but then something out of the ordinary happened.

My wife picked him up!

For anyone who knew Austin, that would sound almost impossible. He weighed over 100 pounds and did not like to be picked up or carried. But in that moment, it was like he gave her the strength she needed to carry him and he went along with it.

It was one of the strangest and most powerful things I have ever seen.

My wife took him for one quick potty break by the front entrance before we headed inside. Even then, he was still trying to follow the routines he had known his whole life.

When we finally got settled into the room, he didn’t want to stand up and he didn’t slide himself down the way he usually did. This time, he just let his body drop, almost as if it were a sign of relief that we were exactly where he needed us to be, and that he was ready to go.

The technicians came in to help take him to the back for an exam. But before that, they needed to use another harness to help lift him up because he wasn’t even trying to stand up anymore. One harness was placed under the front of his belly and another behind so they could support his weight. 

With some effort, they lifted him and carefully guided him out of the room.

As we waited for Dr. G to come in, my mind kept thinking of all the little things that were different about this visit. 

Austin hadn’t taken his sedation medicine like he normally did before vet appointments. We usually gave it to him about three hours ahead of time to help keep him calm, but that morning he was already so out of it that the thought never even crossed our minds.

He also came in without his face mask. For years it had been a must whenever he was around other dogs or people he didn’t know. It was simply part of our routine. But that day, somehow, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He could barely comprehend where he was at, let alone worry about anything around him.

A few minutes later, Dr. G walked into the room.

She gently explained that Austin had multiple tumors. One of them was on his nipple and it had already begun turning black. She then asked about his quality of life. 

My heart dropped!

It felt like someone had punched me in the gut and ran me over with a Mack truck. I felt winded, heartbroken, and angry all at the same time.

As much as we wanted more time with him, we knew keeping him here would only mean more suffering.

And so, we made the decision to say goodbye that morning. 

It was the kind of decision that breaks your heart even when you know it’s the right one.