shimmer

Yesterday, we had to have our beautiful miniature Schnauzer, Mavis, put to sleep. She was 14 years old.

In this photo, Mavis is two or three years old. I'm not really sure, because I had not yet met her. My husband got Mavis when she was just 7 weeks old. I first met Mavis perhaps nine years ago, but I didn't live with her until Hubby and I first moved in together seven years ago.

Mavis was sweet and loving, an excellent ratter in her youth, and always loved to be held and cuddled by her people. She would bound across the yard like a deer, then fall down in the grass to roll around on her back in it. She really loved to snack on "Kitty Roca," so we had to keep her away from the cat box. Ugh, why do they like that?!?

Once, about five years ago, Mavis got into the compost pile and ate something that made her very ill indeed. She spent several days in the vet hospital, getting IV fluids and medicine, but she recovered well. We had to be more careful about what snacks we gave her after that.

When she was younger, she loved to run off and have adventures, if she got the chance. One time Hubby was searching for her and found that she had wandered on to the freeway! Thank the gods she was safe. She could find a way out of any fence, so we really had to watch that. In recent years, her most ambitious expedition became her daily "orbit" around the outside of the house.

We sometimes talked about breeding her, but in the end, Hubby couldn't stand the thought of his baby Mavis pregnant and giving birth.

It was hard to watch Mavis really start to age. She wanted to sleep most of the time. She lost most of her hearing. Her cataracts were getting worse and worse. She had to have fifteen teeth removed in March--bad teeth had already killed most of her siblings. She was getting pretty senile, and sometimes seemed very confused about normal routines, like going out to potty. Still, she was a happy enough dog, and didn't seem to be suffering.

This week, things went downhill for Mavis fast. She didn't want to eat. She would start to vomit, then fall on her side, shaking and vomiting. These seizures were really painful to watch, and Mavis was clearly confused and upset. I took her to the vet yesterday morning, and they confirmed what we already suspected: Mavis was critically ill. With aggressive treatment, we could have dragged her through another couple of years, maybe. That seemed cruel. So I went to the vet yesterday afternoon, and held her in my arms while the doctor gave her that final dose of medicine. She breathed a few last, heavy breaths, and then simply stopped, with her head cradled in the crook of my arm.

We will miss her deeply.

Posted by Jean on Wednesday, August 03, 2005 at 8:43 AM | Permalink