This is a reblog from last year. Last Christmas we lost Paw. I miss you, you crappy gross bulldog.
This week leading up to Christmas has been some sort of surreal dream. I’ve been exhausted and stressed. Normal holiday stuff. But on Monday our English Bulldog Paw passed away.
Paw and I had our issues. He had become stubborn in his old age and managed to piss me off on a regular basis. So much so I even attempted to give him away. I know dick move. Obviously it didn’t happen but I do carry some guilt for even attempting to. That’s why I’m telling you. I honestly believe you have pets till death you part. But with five kids, one large man child, and two dogs I had hit the wall. Somebody had to go in my mind. Secretly I was planning my own escape.
As with any dog you adopt Paw came with a lot of baggage. He had food allergies. Topical flea medicines made him lose his hair. Oral flea medicines made him throw up. He would poop on us if we tried to clip his nails or flea comb him. When we would clip his nails he would chew his feet till they became bloody. He liked to mark his bed and pretty much any where he slept. Sometimes I would have to carrying his lazy butt outside just to get him to potty. No small task since he weighed a good sixty pounds. But we still loved him. I loved/love him. Heck I cried when I tried to give him away. Profusely like an insane person. Obviously again he didn’t make it very far.
Paw’s marking of his bed had turned into an every day occurrence. We suspected kidney failure or maybe prostate cancer. His blood work came back fine. He was just old and couldn’t hold it. I tried doggy diapers and belly bands but every day I just found myself cleaning up pee. Usul could no longer sleep with her buddy. And then he started to go blind. Which presented a whole new challenge. I would have to guide him to his food, crate, and even back in the house. Paw was breaking my heart.
I’m sure Matt and the girls miss their friend. But I don’t think they have the same level of grieving as I do. I took care of Paw. We had a love/hate relationship. He was my grumpy old man. Believe me he had tried to bite me on more than one occasion. Luckily for me his underbite made it impossible for him to do any harm. I was the lady constantly harassing him with fold wiping and teeth cleanings.
I had made the decision that Paw’s quality of life was rapidly going down hill and it was time for him to be put to sleep. He was still eating and drinking but everything else seemed to be falling apart.
I had wanted to put it off till after Christmas. But he seemed even more tired and less himself. Paw was breaking my heart. I made an appointment for Wednesday. It was time to let go. On Monday I decided to give him a bath. I made him rice and chicken. He was very tired. He didn’t want to eat. Or leave his crate. After his bath he just laid on my lap while I dried him. I could feel his heart racing and then he started to breathe funny. I realized something very bad was happening. And within a matter of minutes Paw died in my arms.
Paw died of heart failure.
The few minutes after he passed were a horrible nightmare. I had to get him back in his crate to take to the vet. Usul howled, she wanted to lay on him. She wanted to keep me away. She barked and whined. It was horrible. I laid on the floor next to him and just cried. I cried because he was gone. I cried because I would have to tell the girls and Matt. I cried because I was alone to deal with this. I cried for trying to give him away. I cried for every time I ever yelled at him or called him a dumb dog. I cried because I would never hear him talk again or roll on his back. I cried because I would never get to clean his stupid folds again. I cried because I lost my grumpy old man.
Paw broke my heart.
I had never heard of the rainbow bridge till we adopted Paw. We read all these stories of other bulldogs that had gone over the rainbow bridge on the rescue website. We would tell Paw that he could never go over the rainbow bridge.
He didn’t listen, normal Paw behavior.
I miss my old crappy bulldog.