I know that I come late to this conversation, but I feel that I should speak up myself. Friday last I lost my canine best friend of 11 years after watching dementia change his personality and leave him frightened and alone. Mr Chili was adopted in 2005 as a companion for my mother who was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, and despite his size (Long haired Chihuahua) he was a steadfast companion and protector for my mother. When she passed suddenly in 2007, Chili and I were thrown together through loss and turmoil and began slowly building a friendship, trust and love. I never forgot that my personal loss was his also, and that he was no less affected than I. Over the next 5 years we became a team, and we rode out some fairly serious storms, both emotional and literal, together as an unbreakable unit. Things settled down in 2011, but took another turn in 2012 when I made the decision to marry the love of my life who came with her own canine friend. Chili was not ready to relinquish his alpha dog status easily, and the next couple of years were spent with him taking a backseat to the intruding canine, and taking it all with grace and dignity. Eventually Chili even lost his privileges for sleeping in the bed because he was often responsible for aggressive behavior against the larger dog, and over the course of a year I felt an almost crippling guilt over watching my companion and partner slowly being relegated to his crate or a space under the table in the living room because we had forced him into this situation in which he was outmatched by size and weight (though not intelligence or loyalty).

In 2015 we were forced to put the outsider dog down after he began to lose his faculties and the ability to manage his daily needs. This led to some serious trauma in the house, while at the same time serving as the lifting of a prison sentence for Chili. The time of his taking a backseat to Spanky’s drama and failing health was over, and it was time for him to move back to the front of the pack. It was the next few months when I refused to entertain the notion of my wife bringing yet another dog into the house while Chili was just coming back into his own. I could not see this as fair, and my guilt for the grooming or veterinary appointments that Chili had to wait for while his older counterpart was seen as a higher priority.

This position is what ultimately led to the end of my marriage because I felt that I could bear not another ounce of guilt towards Chili after the years he had been so loyal to me, and I was not willing to see canine – human relationships as disposable the way my wife did, no matter the cost. The stress and heartbreak in the house over the last 4 months we were together was almost unbearable. Once my wife was gone, Mr Chili and I returned to our old routines and once again became the dynamic duo. We made up for missed grooming appointments, sought help from his doctor to ease the discomfort of his chronic itching, and fell comfortably into the life we had left behind in 2012. This only lasted about a month before he began to change. He became very aggressive when I made contact with him of any sort, and began biting me when I would try to pet him. We explored a number of options with the vet, looking for joint pain or arthritis or tumors that might be causing soft tissue sensitivity, but we never found anything that we could treat. Pain meds had no effect, and eventually we were down to trying xanax to ease his anxiety and try and get him some sleep. The guilt I felt was crushing: every time we missed grooming/nail trimming because I didn’t have the money left; the times that we were forced to live in crummy, bug infested housing when I was between jobs; the cross country trek to find work in a state 500 miles from home where he developed allergies to much of the flora and fauna; the times that I didn’t have enough energy to give him attention because I was feeling sorry for myself; and the time that I allowed him to take a back seat to a personal relationship into which he should have been invited and bound. I know that my ex-wife felt that I was too devoted to my relationship to my dog, and could never really understood the ways in which we had saved each other over the years simply because without each other, neither of us would have had much of a chance.

The decision to let Chili made me go numb and cold inside. Why can’t I just care more or be there for him no matter the difficulty, but I couldn’t neglect the nagging thought that this kind of behavior for Chili represented a place he was uncomfortable, and the fear in his eyes and posture during his episodes was primal. The thought of forcing him to go through more of this discomfort because I felt terrible was unacceptable. In the end I gave my friend the most loving gift that I had left for him: dignity, and I gave it despite the void it left in my life and in my heart. In 6 days my pain and guilt have been constant companions, and I am coming to the realization that I may have developed a dependency on caregiving that is going to require another creature to live in my home. Grief and loss are experienced differently by different people, and in some ways losing Chili was every bit as devastating as losing my mother years earlier. Euthanasia adds another level to that as it is an active decision which will leave nagging doubt in your mind in search of guilt and sadness to feed on and come back to fill your thoughts and dreams. If anything, my best defense against the crushing heartache of this past week has been my belief that I did the right thing. I also believe that my relationship with Chili, formed as it was during the sudden loss of his master and my mother, was perfectly understandable. Everyone who knew me knew that my dog had been my reason for living when I could find nothing else, and that I was grateful to him for his patience and unconditional acceptance.

No matter how lacking I was during the 11 years we were together. No matter what moods I might have had. No matter whether we were living the high life or barely scraping by and eating from the food pantry. Missed grooming appointments. Postponed shots and heartworm treatments. Through our entire relationship Mr Chili never once blamed me for any of it. He trusted me to provide him care and comfort and in return loved me with all his heart. He wasn’t afraid when I carried him to the car for that last trip to the vet. This was just one more journey we were taking together, and he was still filled with trust. You cannot betray the trust of a dog because they have no understanding of the dual nature of humanity, and they will always turn the other cheek because it is deeply embedded in their very nature. There will be moments, sometimes hours, when I can barely keep myself from collapsing in tears, and it may be a while before I will be able to smile at the knowledge that, in the end, I gave my friend the best gift that I knew how to give. Part of me believes that opening my house to another dog will help to bring the sunshine back to my days, and that starting again on that road to friendship that was such a Homeric adventure for Chili and me that saw both of our lives change in ways that could not be imagined.

I believe that the bonds we share with our pets are every bit as strong and important as those we share with our families and friends. In some ways they may even seem more important because of the dependent nature of the relationship, and the responsibility that brings to bear on the human part of the equation. Most importantly I believe in the saying that I had inscribed on a stone that I placed on Chili’s spot in the shade beneath our apple tree, “if love alone could have kept you alive, you would have lived forever”