I post this, full in the knowledge that I am exposing myself for a kind of abuse I will not much care for. But I've spoken of him here from time to time, and extensively to some of you who know me well.
EJ (AKA, Eddie J. Dog, and ocassionally as Eddie Jordog), passed away peacefully in his sleep this morning after a spirited week-long fight against a severely inflamed and perforated pancreas.
When my grandfather was living out his last few years with us, EJ would escourt him to the outside lav (there was an inside one, but it was upstairs, had we not had the outside one the poor old gent woulda been faced with a commode), because he could hardly see, EJ would walk between him and all the drains/gutters/general clutter to keep him on course. He would then wait on him in order to serve the same function for the return trip. We initially tried to stop him, thinking he'd trip the auld boy up, until he told us to watch what the dog was actually doing....just walking in close to him, pressing on his leg just enough to steer him out of trouble.
When I was at my sickest, unfit for human company (or even NOOL....judging from some of my postings), EJ would come and sit with me, and very often ON me (crush injuries were reserved for the sick, he'd never try to flatten anyone healthy), and follow me about looking somewhat concerned.
This list of his "clever boy" moments would take it's own forum, but what endeared him to everyone was his empathetic manner towards anyone who was feeling sick or sore or just down. He was also VERY handy for someone who works nights and gets a lot of expensive kit delivered.....big 4 legged doorbell amplifier we called him.
I've spent half the last week in tears, my mum, more than that. By the time we realised it was not just a tummy bug, it was basically too late already, but he fought on for a full week, the vet saying he defied all her expectations of survival. Yesterday they decided to jump start his dormant digestive system with a feeding tube, to determine if the apparent reduction in inflamation was due to healing, or due to the pancreas simply not being used. It seems that he thought "tube up my nose? fuck that!", and bailed out. Oddly although he was terribly weak yesterday, his mental functions and personality had totally returned to normal, and he actually seemed kinda happy (morphine probably helps). One would nearly think he simply hung on for a week to "let us down gently", and that yesterday's contented, happy and even playful dog had decided his work was done.
Not every dog gets to be a pup for ten whole years. That, and the fact that he'd be FRANTIC if he seen my crying, will get me through this.
Goodbye my wee mate.
Ravi: Don't, just don't.
are alergic to them.
.
