I'm terribly sad to share the news that we lost the Gunnar-man in the early
hours of this morning. I'm sorry to burden you, but I do want
thank you all for sharing in the joy he brought us for all these
years.
Our visit to the vet yesterday revealed the sudden downturn he experienced
Thursday was because he had masses on both his prostate and his spleen. This
seemed pretty dire, and I expressed a determination to not cause him undue
suffering, but the doctor was of the opinion we should try and treat his
prostate for a couple of weeks, and if that could be brought in line, we could
consider a biopsy of the growth on his spleen and a possible splenectomy. But
his condition was far worse after we got home, as he showed increasing signs of
discomfort, and he was even having trouble just walking. So we went to bed
pretty convinced that, barring a miraculous turnaround, we would euthanize him
today. But we awoke to find he died in his sleep, going out much the way he
lived, on his own terms.
Our
wonderful poodle was a blessing to us every day for 14-⅓ years. This works
out to well over one-hundred by the old dog-years rule-of-thumb. That is not an
exact science, but gives some perspective on his good run. And it was indeed an
excellent one, as aside from his recent bout with giardia, and his last two days
of suffering, he had a lifetime of almost perfect health. He was also one of the
happiest creatures I've ever met, and he had an amazing collection of friends of
both the two-legged and four-legged varieties. This was part of his brilliant second act, as he emerged from the shadow of Hudson the wonder dog after she
passed and took over her role as mayor of the neighborhood.
It was a real privilege to be his owner, and his loss leaves a giant hole in
our hearts that will be tough to fill.