Back in 2011, Alex decided he wanted a dog. He knew he wanted a pit bull, and he knew he wanted to adopt one. We went to the shelter, and he absolutely fell in love with a sweet little pittie... a girl named "Joy." By the time we were able to get the house ready, and set up a chance to meet and greet with my dad's dog who lived with us at the time, Joy had been adopted, and Alex was very sad about it. I remember thinking at the time, though I don't know if I actually said it, "Don't worry; we will find you another dog, and in the end you won't be able to imagine having had a different one."
We went back to the shelter to look at another young, female pit, but during the meeting with my dad's dog she was just a little overly hyperactive for him.
Not quite grudgingly, Alex asked to meet "Montana," a little brown, black, and white male pit bull. He was a cute dog, but not very personable. He stayed in the back of his kennel, not very interested in interacting. We'd completely overlooked him on our first visit, and his informational page said he'd been there for eight months. But the meeting with my dad's dog went well, and he was sweet when we did get his attention, so we took him.
It took us a little while to come up with a name, but we decided on "Cyanide," since he needed a dangerous name, as a pit bull! The shelter said he was two, but considering how much he grew after we had him, we think he was closer to one. (Though considering he'd been there for a while, it probably was closer to one and a half.) We picked New Year's Day as his birthday, since it was as good a day as any.
Cy was one of the sweetest, smartest dogs I've ever known. He really was wicked smart, and it's lucky that he chose to use that genius for non-evil purposes. He was extraordinarily sweet, and one of the most patient dogs in the world. He would tolerate just about anything, even when he didn't need to put up with it. He loved people.
The only thing he didn't like: raccoons.
He had the strongest paternal instinct I've ever seen in a dog, too (though as far as I know, he never fathered any puppies). He adored little baby animals. He was more annoyed by puppies once they got to the exuberant, mostly coordinated stage, but when they were little? He would just melt for them.
At the dog park once, he played tug-of-war with a tiny, floppy little mastiff puppy. He let her lead him around by that rope, just barely sometimes tugging on it, basically letting her win the whole time.
By coincidence we ran into one of my coworkers and his husband at the park once, with their brand new tiny terrier puppy. Cy let that little five pound ball of fluff jump up on him, and then he'd dramatically fall over and roll onto his back, like the tiny puppy had obviously vanquished him.
He adored kittens, too; when we were staying with some friends, they had some orphaned foster kittens who were still being bottle-fed. We let Cy meet them, and he was
utterly smitten. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle and nuzzle and groom them. (Probably only partially because they were messy eaters that had cat food on them, haha.) For years after, up until he went deaf, if he heard a kitten mew on a video or something, he would excitedly try to find the kitten.
Cy with Sherlock, our friend's cat. This was one of "his" kittens, though grown up in this picture. (Our friend says she credits Cy with how much Sherlock grew up to like dogs.)
A picture Alex took, Cy at the Chesapeake Bay.
He was a great hiking buddy. This is him at Mt. Falcon.
I wanted to pick out my favorite pictures of Cy, but trick question, because they're all my favorites, so I'm still posting too many.
25 more pictures of my best boy.
He used to have so little white on his face!
Alex and Cy. Just like I thought: couldn't imagine ending up with a different dog.
Me with Cy. We were watching fireworks. He was the mellowest dog; truly nothing scared or bothered him (except being left alone for too long.)
At the dog park, eyes on the tennis ball.
He was always the most majestic sleeper.
On a "cliff edge" at Red Rocks.
Bane of baseballs everywhere!
He used to be so spry! Excited for Alex to chuck the tennis ball already.
Hot dog in the sun at a friend's farm out in Maryland.
Champion slorper.
Helping me carve a jack-o-lantern. <3
His silly hat with reindeer antlers and ear warmers. (It brought joy to the masses, judging by how people in neighboring cars reacted when he'd wear it, haha.)
He loved his naps, and he loved napping on plushies.
My best boy.
Cy in his Pride hat, at fourth of July. Again, bringing joy to the masses. We had so many people stop and smile and comment about the dog in the hat.
His dragon Halloween costume.
Reindeer-on-reindeer violence!
Looking like a model advertising the treats in the background.
His nose. <3
In front of the flowers at the park last year.
Alex took this picture, of both the dogs at fourth of July last year.
Not a great pic, but I think you can tell that this is a cool dog with cool places to be and cool things to do.
He loved blankets so much. All you had to do was hold a blanket up and he would dart over to be under it. He wanted to be tucked in before going to sleep at night.
Fairly recent, I know I shared it already, but it was sweet when the dogs would actually cuddle together.
Cuddling his dragon toy. <3
Today, talk of end of life:
Overnight, around 1:45 in the morning, Cy got up from his bed and was very suddenly extremely agitated. He was making terrible scream-bark-howl sounds, and frantically running around the apartment. It was very scary, and we took him to the emergency vet. They did an exam, and then gave him a sedative that would also help with pain. The best hope was that this was basically "doggie dementia," and that getting some rest would lead to him waking up feeling better, and then we could look at treating the anxiety if it remained.
We took him home around 4:00, but even with their sedative and his usual pain meds, I don't think he ever fell asleep. The physical agitation stopped, and he was laying in his bed, but he was awake and still whining with almost every exhale.
Around 8:00 he started moving around more, though the agitation wasn't where it had been in the middle of the night. We took him outside, which initially seemed fine... then a few minutes later, still outside, he started with the horrible screaming again. Our regular vet wasn't open yet, so we went back to the emergency vet.
They did blood and urine tests, wanting to rule out anything they could: infection, organ failure, drugs or other toxins. Unfortunately in this case, the tests came back normal. His kidney levels were slightly elevated, same as his annual exam had showed, but everything else was normal. (My last, quiet hope had been a UTI/kidney infection; I know that can cause neurological symptoms if it's advanced enough, and as bad as that would be when his kidneys were already bad, it would be something we could try and treat.) The emergency vet said that in absence of any physical cause that it was probably neurological, with the most likely causes being a brain tumor or possibly a blood clot. She recommended we look at this as a quality of life question.
His obvious distress meant it wasn't fair to him to drag things out. I called our regular vet, and she was able to get us an end of life appointment at noon, just about an hour after we were leaving the emergency vet. (We could have done it there, but our vet has been our vet since I was a child; for thirty years she's been the one to help our pets pass when it's time, and I'd rather have had him go there. I suspect she was offering to do this at what should have been her lunch break; she said they were basically double-booked for the whole day. They'd offered us a 5:00 appointment, but that seemed like too long to wait, when he would spend those hours upset.)
We went and got a pup cup from Starbucks. The vet gave us some time with him both before and after. He passed very quickly and quietly.
This was something we knew was coming, though we didn't expect something like this to force it. We thought it would be the end last March when we took him to the emergency vet the first time, the day he suddenly couldn't walk. We were hoping at that point for a couple more months, maybe making it into summer... and he was doing well. Then he had a repeat flare of the back problems on Halloween, and then again the day before Thanksgiving, and two bouts within a month seemed like that was the end; we doubted he'd make it to Christmas. And then he made it to New Year's, and another unofficial birthday. And then we made it past our birthdays, and then a year past his scare, and then long enough for him to get another annual exam... Lots of tiny little milestones, but ones we didn't think he'd reach. It's felt like more than a year of borrowed time, and it's time I'm glad we got with him.
I'm painfully glad this didn't happen a week from now, when I'll be out of state for my grandmother's memorial.
I've been a weepy, sobbing mess all day, and I feel like I'll remain a weepy sobbing mess for a while.
Cy was truly my Best Boy Ever. While he was Alex's dog, always first and foremost, he was also my dog, the first one I was ever primarily responsible for. We had him for fourteen years of his life, whether that life was fifteen or closer to sixteen years. It wasn't long enough. I would have wanted fourteen more years with him, and it still wouldn't have felt long enough.
I already miss him so much.
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cimorene
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