![]() ![]() I gave him one of his cookies and he swallowed it, barely taking the time to chew it. I asked him if he wanted a treat and right on cue his eyebrows raised in expectation and he stopped panting. He looked back at me with that trusting gaze, panting and, I believe, smiling in that way that dogs do. Looking into Custer’s eyes all I saw was love. Dad made a brave effort and smiled grimly, hoping he would get better. He too had heart and lung disease which made each breath a monumental effort. ![]() His face had whitened considerably in the past few months and he reminded me of my father who had passed away only a year and a half ago. I helped him up into the back of my truck and looked into his eyes. How did this develop? What will his life be like, is he in any pain, how will this end his life? I heard the answers but felt as though I were living someone else’s life, playing a role in a script written for an actor much better than I. I was witness to a higher level of courage than I had ever seen before. Six months earlier he had been diagnosed with hypothyroidism. An ultrasound confirmed his suspicions.Ĭuster and I walked out of the veterinarian hospital, he labouring because he also had partial laryngeal paralysis which affected his breathing and I in that surreal state of mind one goes into when you have just been given some news that you can’t quite process. The vet suspected something like that when he saw that his heart had become radically enlarged from only three months before. A month ago, Custer was diagnosed with a hemangiosarcoma tumour on his heart. My dog, a golden retriever named General Custer, or as I called him, Custer, was not only a man’s best friend but my teacher, guru and the gentlest of souls ever to walk this earth. I would rather go to his heaven than man’s”. Mark Twain wrote that “The dog is a gentleman. ![]()
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