Last Thursday afternoon, our lovely little Jack Russell dog was put to sleep.
He was 16 years old, and up until a few months ago, he was the gentle, well-behaved,
happy little chap he had always been.
We got him when he was 6 weeks old. He was the runt of the litter,
the
last pup left - when I sat down on the floor he just climbed
into my
lap, and that was that.
He loved his walks, and the beach, and our cats.
Over the last year it became clear that Manu was losing his hearing, and his eyesight. He was still keen to go for a walk every day, and would wait at the door for me to be ready. However he would run out of steam after a short time, our walks got shorter and shorter, and he would sleep a great deal during the day.
The time came for his annual check-up, and I knew that this would be the last one.
Our lovely vet found several issues; his heart was beating at twice the normal
rate,missing a beat every now and then, he had a smell which she thought was
probably to do with liver function, and she could feel a mass in his stomach.
We came home, and after a long discussion the decision was made. I would
take him back on Thursday,and he would go gently to sleep.
Farewell, little mate.
