From Coughin’ To Coffin — A Pet Owner’s Day Of Grieving

Over the years AN has proved to be 95% A’s baseball and 5% community therapy, and today I do not write about Brent Rooker or Luis Severino. If you’ve ever lost a pet you know exactly how today feels for me, and if you haven’t it’s probably not something that can be explained.

This morning I came into the kitchen to find 13.5 year old Billy in the middle of the floor and not at all alive. Yesterday he was healthy and happy, romping at Point Isabel where his tail flapped furiously like a hummingbird’s wings each time he met a fellow dog. He devoured his nightly “chicky treat” with the usual gusto, and lay down in his doggie bed. I wished him goodnight by informing him that he was a good dog and parting with a signature kiss on the top of his head.

Billy was, generally, in great health although his hearing was rapidly declining. Except for that cough. A few months ago he developed a cough that would erupt suddenly, last a few seconds and usually culminated with a grand hacking finale. Thing is, as soon as it was over he was absolutely fine and seemed not at all bothered.

Still we were concerned, but 2 inhalers and 2 oral medications did nothing. We worried about the persistent cough yet also took solace in how frisky, mobile, alert, and happy he was except during the 5 seconds of a coughing spell.

It appears that last night he had one final coughing spell, only this time perhaps with a massive coronary chaser. He seems to have ended the coughing fit by collapsing and dying instantly — certainly we want to think so as to the best of our knowledge there was not even a moment of suffering.

In a way it’s the best doggie demise I’ve endured. Gino, a labrador/beagle mix, pre-dates AN (1979-1991) and was probably the most remarkable dog I’ve known, almost seeming human at times. But as he aged his hips started to betray him until one day he literally could not get up and was extremely anxious as a result. He was euthanized in Tahoe in a makeshift grave I have twice visited since.

Poochini, known to ANers of his era, lived from 1996-2012 but while the first 14 years were pretty great the last 2 were not. Somehow we failed to realize how much his behaviors reflected increasing dementia and by the end he was taking to walking frantically in place in tight circles until he was exhausted and plopped down wherever he was at the time. He was euthanized far too late.

Billy, on the other hand, had a wonderful life right up to the moment he dropped dead sometime around midnight last night. He was the rare terrier who swam, he loved dogs and people with equal gusto, beef and chicken even more.

One of his many quirks was that his first toy was a yellow 4-legged octopus we named “Quadrapussy,” and every toy after he chewed up, destroyed the squeaker or ripped to shreds — but for some reason he never harmed Quadrapussy. He loved to play with Quadrapussy but he was always strangely gentle.

So a few minutes ago we buried Billy in the backyard that he patrolled vigilantly every day, with Quadrapussy nestled under his chin for eternal companionship. Billy was one of those dogs that everyone who met him adored him — he just had that effect on people, even including a close friend who “doesn’t like dogs” but wound up attached to Billy against all reason.

If you have a beloved pet, feel free to give them an extra kiss on the head for me. And go A’s.