Radical Civility

Gypsy at Christmas 1997; and at Christmas 2007

Gypsy, an Australian cattle dog, came into my life in April 1997, when I adopted her after a lengthy period in which she had been passed around to several people who fostered her briefly after her rescue from an abusive owner. No one knew her age, but estimated it at about seven. Having had so little positive contact with people, for several months she tended just to sit quietly around the house, and although sweet and obedient, seemed to have no idea that dogs and humans could play.

By summer that changed, however, and Gypsy learned to have fun — especially games of fetch, at which she was nearly tireless. At the end of 1997 she was joined by Jethro, whom I got specifically so that Gypsy would have a companion. It took a while for her to appreciate Jethro, who from the first was far more dominant than Gypsy, but they eventually became fast friends.

They were very different dogs, however. Jethro followed me around almost everywhere. Gypsy had a special armchair she regarded as her own, and when not otherwise engaged, tended to stay there contentedly for hours.

For years her health remained remarkably good, and her twice yearly visits to the veterinarian seldom turned up any problems, save that over the past three years or so, her hearing and sight diminished greatly.
In August of last year, however, her weight suddenly dropped from 35 to about 20 pounds, and despite a number of tests, including an ultrasound, no one could determine why, except that although she ate normally, her body was absorbing few nutrients. I put her on a special veterinary diet — which Gypsy soon grew tired of, though Jethro coveted it — and fed her an enzyme tablet with each meal to help her with digestion.

Her condition stabilized but got no better and within a few weeks she was no longer housebroken. The only place to keep her was the kitchen, where the linoleum floor made it easy to clean up when she urinated and after her frequent, massive, and widely scattered bowel movements, since she seemed to have to walk around the room in order to go. This occurred several times a day, so I kept a bucket of Pine Sol and water constantly on hand. My best efforts notwithstanding, the kitchen floor was seldom very sanitary, and the stench of Pine Sol permeated the air.

Although she got no better, she got no worse, and a few days ago I realized that this situation could continue for months. I had always assumed that I would put Gypsy to sleep only in the context of some acute and painful illness. Gypsy’s actual circumstances were not like that, but gradually I came to realize that her quality of life was significantly degraded and the situation was also significantly degrading my own quality of life. On top of that, I came to see how Gypsy’s condition was also hurting the quality of life of Jethro and especially Maddie, a mixed breed I rescued last year. For reasons too complicated to explain here, Gypsy’s condition, combined with the fact that Maddie was imperfectly housebroken, meant that Maddie had to spend much of her time in the basement.

Anyway, it finally broke through to me that although the moment had not come in the way I had imagined it would, it was time to let Gypsy go. On Saturday morning I took her to the vet, and held her as the vet gave her the shot that put her to sleep.

As a child I lost several dogs because my parents gave them away, but this was the first time a dog had ever died while in my care. I still don’t know quite how I feel about it. Her condition would probably have stayed the same for several more months, and in that sense, it wasn’t absolutely necessary to put her down. But maybe the reality is that I held on to her a little too long. I don’t know.

The only thing I really do know is that Gypsy’s passing has finally opened up scope for me to give Maddie the attention and the training that she needs (Maddie has development issues and her training requires a lot more time and attentiveness than that of most dogs). And while I hadn’t thought of Maddie as being outside the family, so to speak, in retrospect I can see that such was largely the case, for in recent days she has really bloomed. So maybe I failed to do right by either dog. But maybe, as with many things in life, the options were never perfect, and I simply did the best I could. I guess that will have to be enough.