The Psycho Ex Wife

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Something strange happened a few days ago and it prompted me to get to the story behind my painful decision to put our family dog to sleep in the middle of this mess.  It’s been a while since I posted about this decision, but it is important that you get the background on it via: She Wants to Gas the Dog!

I don’t travel very often for work.  When the marriage broke up, traveling was easier in some respects, much more difficult in others.  In terms of scheduling, it was good to be able to schedule travel when it was convenient for the custody schedule as it existed at the time.  In terms of the dog, it was a nightmare.  Due to the expense of the ordeal, I couldn’t afford the expense to board him.  It was one thing to burden our great neighbors for a weekend getaway or night or similar.  It was entirely another to burden them for an entire week at a time.

The dog, we’ll call him Fido, was a great dog.  A loyal dog.  For the most part - a well-trained dog.  He was approaching 10-years old and had the occasional in-house accident.  He also started having the occasional seizure, which was a very unnerving experience the first time it occurred.  He also had regular asthma attacks - also rather disturbing to witness.  My main concern was a big, giant lump on his hind area.  It was literally the size of a softball.  To picture it, think of those car window ornaments that have a baseball or softball that appears lodged in the window.  That’s what it looked like on his back.

On more than one occasion since the marriage broke up, PEW and I had discussions on what to do with the dog.  I couldn’t keep him.  It is a rough life for a dog when he’s in his sleeping cage for 8-hours while I’m working.  He’s in his sleeping cage for 8-hours while I’m sleeping.  He is only getting interaction with the children 50% of the time.  We discussed giving him away.  I looked into it, she didn’t it.  I could find no takers for a 10-year old dog “with issues” - no matter how great Fido was with kids, with owners, funny, friendly, the whole bit.  From the prior post, it was clear what she wanted to do.  No one in her family wanted the dog.  I don’t know if she checked with anyone else.  During a discussion in August of 2004, the same options were laid out.  I asked everyone I could; friends, family, people at work who I knew were dog lovers.  No takers.  So, I kept him.

As September 2004 dragged on, Fido had a couple more seizures and I was becoming increasingly concerned about the growth on his back.  I finally took him to the veterinarian for an exam.  He checked out the growth and could make heads nor tails of the situation.  It could just be a rather large fatty deposit or cyst.  It could be cancer.  It would take blood work, biopsy, money, money, money, and more money that I didn’t have.  I needed to think this over.  I couldn’t go into all this medical drama with Fido.  I didn’t have it.  I was in the middle of something that was horrible and costly and I didn’t have time for all of this, too.

After taking some time to think about things, I took a chance and called the SPCA.  Of course they would be willing to take him.  Of course, I would disclose all of the issues that were concerning me and what the vet had said.  Of course the SPCA would tell me that he wouldn’t last but two days before he would be destroyed because with that big thing on his back, it was not very likely anyone would adopt him.  Of course I wouldn’t drop him off at the SPCA.  If he was going to be put-down, I would be the one to see it through.

So, I called the vet and discussed the matter with him and made an appointment for it to be done.  The first available appointment was the day before I had to travel for a week on business.  That would work.  With all that was going on at the time… waiting for the evaluator’s report… dealing with the dog issues… getting ready to travel for work… it hadn’t dawned on me that it was also PEW’s birthday.  Not that this fact mattered or had any relevance to the situation, nor would I have changed it because of the date.  It was something that had to be done and the timing was perfect in terms of all that I was trying to juggle.  Of course, many, many times in the aftermath PEW would make it all about her (as usual) and contend that I did this on her birthday deliberately.  This, from the PEW who suggested euthanizing Fido as early as February of 2004 and then again in August of 2004 when I told her that she can take the dog or find someone who can, because I couldn’t.   I tried and tried hard.

Not wanting to deal with the fallout of having a discussion about it and having her use it against me or worse - tell the children that I “killed their dog” - I made this decision on my own.

I was very sad on the day it was to happen.  The vet asked me if I wanted to stay or leave.  I chose to stay.  There was no way I was leaving.  It was bad enough I made this decision, I wasn’t going to walk out and just leave him there all by himself.  I was going to “do the right thing” and stay with him until the very end.

I don’t regret my decision, but my gosh, it was one of the most awful experiences I’ve had the misfortune of having to deal with.  He was injected with a sedative and he laid down.  Then they used whatever it is that they use to finish the task.  I held his paw, petting him and talking to him the whole time.   When he finally took his last breath, I started crying.  Then bawling.  I couldn’t catch my breath.  I was crying as uncontrollably as I ever had in my adult memory.  I hated the experience.  I hated that I made that decision.  There were so many seemingly easier choices.  I could have dumped him on some farm.  I could have dumped him at the SPCA and washed my hands of the tough stuff.  The vet was standing there, perhaps a little dumbfounded that a grown man could come so unglued.  Perhaps it was just the trigger-moment, the flood of emotions over not just putting Fido down, but the divorce battle, the custody battle, the evaluation mess, and the significant life changes that were certainly forthcoming.  It probably took a solid 20-minutes to regain my breath and stop that “huh-uh-huh-huh-huh-uh” crying stutter that I thought only happened to children.  Another 5-minutes it would take to try to put on a normal face and pass through the full waiting room.  Then I departed and went home just that much more sad about what the hell was going on in my life at the time.

Euthanizing a beloved family pet is not an experience I would wish on anyone.  It was horrible.  Of course, eventually, PEW would make it remain horrible even as recently as the other day, which I’ll get to in my next post.  Fortunately, my decision to tell no one would serve me well.  I would be able to share the news with the children before PEW would ever find out.  Yes, I would lie my ass off and tell them simply that Fido died.  It was the right thing to do.  Sure, he was suffering from some known and perhaps some unknown ailments that I was not in a position to deal with as many pet owners oftentimes do.  That didn’t matter.  Fido was gone and now I had the task of helping the children though that phase of their lives.  A prior family dog, Alpo, died of old age a few years earlier, so it was familiar territory with them.

This plan effectively disarmed PEW’s potential using it as a tool for bad-mouthing me in a way that would probably have struck a deep wound to the children.   I would lie to her, too, about Fido just dying.  Psycho that she is, she would call the vet and the vet would tell her that I had Fido euthanized.  I was pissed about that as it was none of her business and I imagine he shouldn’t have just simply been disclosing that information via a phone call.  By that time, though, she couldn’t tell some diabolical story to the children without them questioning it.  To my knowledge, she never did.  As far as I know, the children know what I told them - Fido died.

We will go back to the future many times on this issue, much as we have on any number of others.  See how I addressed the situation here:  Dealing with the Topic of Death with the Children…