Brendan Higgins

It is not the critic who counts.

On April 23rd, 2022 I posted a long article about my dog Oliver’s Kidney Failure diagnosis. Unfortunately, he took a severe turn for the worse in August. We had to make the terrible but necessary decision to put him to sleep on August 25th, 2023 - just 1 year and 4 months after his diagnosis. I could not keep watching him suffer. My mom said to me that sometimes the hardest decision is also the kindest.

All my research and diet modifications did very little for my friend. I wish I had been more diligent about it, sometimes I was lax. I just let him eat his K/D food and didn’t always use the supplements. I could have brought him to the vet sooner, and more often for bloodwork. I could have gotten him fluids more often. I regret so much, but despite those feelings, I know we took good care of him. He was cared for, safe, and deeply loved. I know that our decision to put him to sleep was the right one. He was beginning to suffer, and I couldn’t stand to watch him be in pain and confusion as to why his body wouldn’t work for him.

We adopted him on April 27th, 2019, and got to have a wonderful but painfully short time with him: 4 years, and 4 months. His birthday per the animal rescue we got him from said he was born November 24, 2018, making him only 4 years, 9 months old. A Schnoodle is expected to live anywhere from 10 to 16 years. I feel so robbed of all the time I should have gotten to spend with him. The ultimate irony is that today is National Dog Day; sometimes life isn’t fair. Oliver didn’t deserve the illness he had.

I wish I could have done something more for him. I wish I could have made him healthy.

I’ll miss you, buddy. I’ll miss your bark and your coarse wiry hair, I’ll miss your soft floppy ears, I’ll miss your polite begging for table scraps, I’ll miss you greeting me at the door, I’ll miss your bed-time cuddles, and of course, I’ll miss your silly underbite.

You were my best friend.

Oliver

Where goes he now, that dark little dog
  who used to come down the road barking and shining?
He's gone now, from the world of particulars,
  the singular, the visible

So, that deepest sting: sorrow. Still,
 is he gone from us entirely, or is he
a part of that other world, everywhere?

Come with me into the woods where spring is
  advancing, as it does, no matter what,
not being singular or particular, but one
  of the forever gifts, and certainly visible.

See how the violets are opening, and the leaves
  unfolding, the streams gleaming and the birds
  singing. What does it make you think of?

His shining curls, his honest eyes, his
  beautiful barking

BAZOUGEY by Mary Oliver from Dog Songs.

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