We have known for about a month now that our much loved pup Thomas, was terminally ill with lymphoma. The vet had told us we could give him a six month course of chemotherapy which may extend his life by up to a year. Dave and I took the decision not to put our boy through that. As my friend Jane said, far better for him to go out in blaze of glory than for us to watch him steadily deteriorate over the course of a year.
And go out in a blaze of glory he did.
He never lost his bounce. His whacky tail never stopped wagging. But he was losing weight fast and whilst I don’t think he was in any pain, he was finding life exhausting. Last Saturday we took him to the park with my Mum’s dog, Tilly. He ran around that park with her like a puppy, bumping and bashing into her in the way that only boxers seem to do. He was having the time of his life. But it wore him out. It took him the whole of the following day to fully recover.
On Wednesday night we decided not to wait for him to become more poorly. We decided to let him go while he was still Thomas. It was the hardest decision we’ve ever made and one which really made me not want to be an adult. We both knew that we were doing the right thing by him, but deciding the exact moment to end his life was hard. So hard.
Yesterday afternoon, after talking him for a last walk around the park (where he bounded around like a spring chicken and could have almost had us fooled that he was really fine) we said goodbye.
Thomas was only seven and we’re all gutted. The kids are devastated, they’ve never known life without him and I don’t think I’ve cried like this in years.