Drifter... Drifter wasn't really a rescue per say but my dad adopted him for me in 2000 after always saying he'd get me another dog since they rehomed my first dog one day when I was 5-6 years old while I was at school. We had been visiting the humane society often and on that day there had been a litter of 3 brindle pups Mastiff mixes and a skinny little, aloof black dog who was curled into a ball in his kennel. It seemed like he had shut the world out, given up. These two had caught my eye, my dad then said pick one. I was over the moon. When I found out the black dog with no name was to be put to sleep the next day I quickly chose him.
He was so skinny, and confused. Didn't want to get into the car which would later become a fight of getting him out of the car as he would grow to love it so much. He was afraid of the house, we left the door open as we had supper so he could come in on his own but he'd sit and cry, pace back and forth. He'd never been in a house before it seemed. He was guessed to be around 6 months by the shelter, our vet said he was closer to 11 months. He was clear as well that he'd been abused based on his personality, whenever someone had a a baseball bat, hockey stick, broom etc in their hands he'd either run or get very defensive, shouting scared him enough to take cover under something and his tail was misformed, the bones jutted out like they had been broken and healed on their own given him an somewhat curly tail.
Over the years he grew to be my shadow, my guardian, my best friend and even joked that he was my boyfriend. He adored me beyond words and I was the same. We had an odd bond people often said, we were very connected, intune to each other.
He'd always been a healthy dog, but this past Christmas he started having seizures, the vet found out he had a grade 4/5 heart murmur and when the blood tests came back his liver wasn't functioning well so medication for his seizures was no longer an option. He did fine for awhile, but the seizures then became more common, his arthritis grew worse despite supplements, and he started loosing control of his bowels and bladder both during seizure and normal. My loyal gentlemen had aged before my eyes and though he tried to remain the dog he had been in his younger years his body was dying while his mind remained bright and eager. Walks became a painful thing though he tried his best, he still loved them, loved his car rides, love life still but what life did he have having seizures every week, unable to walk more then 5 -10 minutes before having to lay down, constant diarrhea and being banished to sleep in the garage because my parents were tired of cleaning up his messes in the house? I had promised long ago I wouldn't be selfish when this time came despite not wanting to ever lose him I knew I had to think about him. He was helped across the bridge July 13 2009. He had a beautiful 24 hours before, we went to all his favorite places, he was spoiled with all his favorite and forbidden people food. He was wagging his tail up until the very end so much trust and love in his eyes. He was only 9 years old but his body seemed to have aged far faster then his mind. I did what I thought best for him and though I wish the outcome had been different and often feel guilty about "playing god" I know deep down it was the best thing.
He went from a skinny, nervous, abused stray who was adopted to an often overweight, happy, game for anything best friend who would have laid his life down for me. My partner in crime who was so human like in his emotions it was scary.
I don't have any pictures of him when we first got him, those pictures have been lost in moving and him chewing them up.
