Canine Cognitive Dysfunction was a long goodbye

I put my best friend of 9.5 years to sleep last night. I adopted him when he was 8, and I didn’t expect to have as long with him as I did.

A few years ago, he was diagnosed with Canine Cognitive Dysfunction. The decline was slow and steady, and by the beginning of this year, I was carrying him outside and back in (the outside stairs were too difficult for him), leading him to his water bowl, his food, his bed. All these tasks became my new normal, and I accepted it. He slept all day right beside me as I worked from home, and he slept in his dog bed beside my bed once he could no longer safely get on or off the bed.

A couple months ago, a bout of diarrhea happened that wouldn’t go away. His normal vet prescribed medicine, but improvement was only temporary. We took him to an emergency vet last night after the diarrhea returned once we came back from a vacation. It turned into a conversation about his quality of life due to his CCD, and I hadn’t realized just how much I had gotten used to our routine, which had led me to not realize the shell my dog had become. No longer reacting to people or being pet. I hope part of him still knew I was there with him, and how dearly I loved him.

I had never encountered a loved one with dementia or Alzheimer’s. I wish I hadn’t gone on autopilot with his care so that I could remember the last time he’d looked at me, leaned into pets, and had been the boy I adopted 9.5 years ago.