Beau came to live with us thirteen years ago. A fuzzy little shih-tsu, he was a constant companion and a loyal friend. He helped us raise many of our grandkids, and followed Belle like a shadow. He took care of us,and we took care of him. During the last couple of years, cataracts took his eyesight but he knew his way around the house, knew where his water bowl lay and kept track of Belle.
He loved going out to the shop with me, and he spent a lot of time out there with me, and with family. Over the last couple of weeks, we've noticed that he was losing a steep, getting disoriented, but we chalked it up to his eyesight. We had a vet look at him and she found some lung issues, but he seemed to have gotten over it. This morning, I took him out to the shop, and it seemed that his breathing was labored. I made meatballs, and he wasn't interested in eating. I piddled around in the shop for a bit, then brought him in the house, and noticed that he wasn't getting any better. I called Belle and she said that she would meet me at the vet's office.
At the vet's they found masses on his spleen and his liver, and coupled with the respiratory problems, the vet said it was time to make the call. Belle and I went outside, caught our breath, cried for a bit, and went back in to consult with the vet. We made the call.
Belle was holding Beau as he drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow morning I'll dig a hole out by the pond.