Our beloved dog, Webster, the last of our original pack of three dogs and a cat from our earliest married years in our first house, is no longer with us. We had to put him to sleep at the age of 16 after living with him and loving him for more than 15 years (we inherited him–a stray–at 8 months old).

Though I was heartbroken, I sent out an e-obituary right away to close friends; it helped to pay a last tribute to him. However, it wasn’t until today that I could bring myself to post a photo and a tribute to him, crying as I do. I’m having a harder time than I thought I would. I’m prone to the Sunday Blues anyway, but it was on Sundays that he and I napped together not so very long ago. I miss him so much and still look for him when I come home. He was such a special buddy for so long. He still is.

Web had developed lots of health issues for which he was on medication and supplements and even saw a chiropractor–epilepsy, low thyroid, spondylosis, arthritic hips, failed hearing and cataracts–but we more than managed. In fact, if you follow this blog, you may have seen the post from October 10 with a photo of the handicap access ramp that a neighbor built for him.

Even with all of his maladies, he still loved his daily walks–though we’d slowed down and shortened them a lot– and he loved to eat, especially vegetables, hence, “The Original Veggie Dog.” Granted, his food obsession had caused him to become an annoyance and a danger in the kitchen because he was always under my feet, but I would give anything to have him right back here tripping me at every turn.

In the accompanying photo, he is eating a raw sweet potato in the garage. A friend had given me a big bag of them from a farmer at his church and I kept them out in the garage where it was cooler and darker. Every day on our way to and from our walks, Webster would eye the bag. I normally just let him come up the stairs into the house on his own time since it took him a while (the ramp was in the back). One day, I heard a kind of splitting crack and ran out to see what in the world it was. Webster just couldn’t stand it any more and had stuck his head down in the bag and helped himself to a potato. He would retrieve several more over a period of a couple of weeks until there were no more.

Web loved raw vegetables so much that he even raided a neighbor’s cabbage patch. Despite being on a leash, he just walked straight into the patch, jammed his snout down into a big fat cabbage and came up with an enormous leaf. I wrested it away from him but, since he’d already ripped it off, I took it home with us under the cover of dark, kept it in the fridge, and broke off pieces for him as little treats. I shouldn’t confess this but, after that, on night time walks, I would occasionally break off a big worm-eaten leaf to bring home for his occasional snacks.

As is so often the case with animals, the sure sign that he had taken a turn was his lack of interest in food. On the evening of November 9, he was fine; on the morning of November 10, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t or couldn’t get up and would barely lift his head to sniff the food that we brought to him. I ran to ask a neighbor to check on him during the day and I called for reports until we could get him to the vet that afternoon. There, a neurological exam revealed what we knew: that his degenerative arthritis was worse. But, the real tale was told when we rolled him onto his right side: his left abdomen was hard, tight and distended. Plus, his heart rate was elevated indicating pain and his gums were pale indicating internal bleeding.

We had found a growth on or near his spleen a year ago when we had his hips X-rayed. But, not wanting to operate on such an elderly gentleman–and with our vet’s blessing–we decided just to watch for signs that it had begun to cause significant problems. Apparently, the growth had started “leaking.”

After a heartfelt and painful exchange–made even more heart-wrenching because Webbie gave me such sweet kisses and took several treats–Joe and I were in total agreement about helping him slip beyond the veil as painlessly as possible. And our vet said she thought we were doing the right thing. We had gone to heroic measures with our first dog and vowed then never to put a dog through that again.

So, with our hearts breaking and both of us crying, me in silent wracking sobs, we let him go, both of us stroking him and telling him what a good boy he was until his last breath. The veterinary staff at Independence Veterinary Hospital, who have cared for him all of his life, wrapped him in their love and competence and made every aspect as easy as possible for him and for us; we are forever grateful.

So this holiday season, we have, as always, much to be thankful for, including that a very special dog graced our lives and let us love him for over 15 years. Here’s to you, Webster! We’re going to have sweet potatoes and cabbage for Thanksgiving in your honor.