Farewell to Casey

Paula's Retirement
It's been four weeks now since our precious, seventeen-year-old poodle, Casey, was put to sleep, and I am finally ready to write about it. It was a long time coming, but deciding when to do it was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. He was pitiful, and had been steadily declining physically and mentally during the past year. But every time I thought I was ready to take him to the vet, I just couldn't do it. He still knew us, he didn't appear to be in pain, and he still ate and drank. I knew that the next crisis that required medical attention would be the end, however, and that happened the week after Sean's wedding. Sean was taking care of Casey while we enjoyed some time in the mountains with friends. The day before we got back, Casey started having problems with his bowel movements. It's gross, but he just got "stuck" and couldn't finish. The next day when we got back he was no better. I wrapped in a towel, put him in his crate and took him home. The next morning I called the vet and made an appointment to bring him in two hours later. During that time he drank some water but would not eat. I carried him around the house and yard one more time so he could see he was back home. Then I took him to the vet where I sat with him in the waiting room with tears streaming down my face. The vet and his assistant were as sweet and understanding as they could be. It was all over very quickly. The assistant helped me take Casey back to the car. I went back in and paid them the $65 I owed and drove home in a bit of a daze. Then I called my husband who came home to help bury him. While I waited for him to get there, I sat and stroked his fur. He looked like he was just sleeping, and I had to keep staring to make sure he wasn't breathing before I could bear putting him in the ground. I took off his collar to keep. It had his name tag and some of his fur that got caught in it. That went into our keepsake box. Doug arrived and carried him to the grave in the back yard I had already dug weeks before. The two of us buried him together. Doug went back to work. That afternoon I washed his bed and blankets one last time and stored all his things away in the attic.
It was a sad afternoon followed by a sleepless night. The first week afterwards was really hard, the second week was better, and the third week I started feeling normal again. But four weeks later, not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about him. He was a part of our little family for seventeen years. It's so different with him gone. I wouldn't wish him back the way he was in the end, but oh how I would love to start all over again with him as a puppy! He gave us so much love and joy.

Now for the happy memories. I knew before I got home with this tiny ball of fluff that I had picked the right puppy. Sean was eleven-years-old and went with me to pick out our first minature poodle. He is the one who named him Casey, for Casey at the Bat. We brought him home in a cardboard box, and I quickly realized what a little clown he was. His intelligence and personality were clear to see. Doug got home that evening, and there Casey sat in the middle of the living room. "He's cute!" he said, and it was love at first sight. Casey always preferred to sit beside Doug in his recliner.

He was a happy, loving little dog, and he was good, very good. His one "vice" was that he loved to find socks and drag them out into the middle of the living room floor. He never chewed them or anything else. He just liked them in the middle of the living room! I guess he had another quirk. He didn't like for us to touch each other in his presence. If Doug hugged me or kissed me, he got upset and barked his head off. When Doug and Sean would play-wrestle, he went berserk!

Another thing he didn't like was being behind closed doors. I had about two weeks to housebreak him before going back to work. He quickly learned what was expected of him. The first day I went back to school, I left him closed up in the laundry room. I returned home at lunch to check on him. Imagine my confusion when I opened the door and there was no Casey! I looked behind the washer and dryer and under the pile of laundry on the floor. Still no Casey. There was nowhere else to hide. I began to wonder if I was losing my mind! Then I looked behind the dryer again and noticed a hole in the vent pipe. It dawned on me that he had chewed a hole in the plastic pipe and squeezed through the dryer vent to the outside! I ran frantically outside to look for a tiny little puppy that knew nothing about the outside world. When I didn't see him, I thought I had lost him for good, but I started knocking on the neighbors' doors to ask if they had seen him. One door opened, and there stood the neighbor's little girl holding my poodle in her arms! I was so relieved! They had seen him out in the yard and knew he shouldn't be there so they brought him in and kept him.

One day a helium balloon drifted down into our yard. It had a long string still attached to it. Sean brought it inside, and Casey had a fit to get it. He thought it was a big ball for him to play with. Soon he was bouncing it off his nose into the air. Then he would jump up and grab the string to pull it down low enough to bounce it up again. He kept on and on while we three rolled in the floor laughing with tears streaming down our faces.

When he was little, he hated seeing himself in a mirror. I would hold him up to one and he would always look away. I really don't think he knew he was a dog, nor did he want to be one. In fact, he hated dogs. The only times I questioned his intelligence was when he would go after a dog big enough to eat him for lunch.

He was so full of energy. He never liked to be held for more than just a few minutes at a time. He preferred sitting beside you to sitting on your lap. He loved to play fetch, but refused to return the ball; you had to get it away from him. That was all part of the game. He learned to understand many of our words. He knew what "go to your room" meant, and "it's time to go to bed." Of course, he knew to sit and lay down. "Stay" was harder, because he wanted to follow so badly, but he would do it for a short time. He could dance around in a circle on his hind legs and walk two-legged across the room. He seemed to like it when I would pick him up and dance around the room with him. In fact, he always liked being picked up. I think he liked being up high. He loved to chase squirrels and just stand outside in the sunshine letting the breeze blow his ears back. He loved to eat chicken and cheese better than any other foods. Most of all, he loved us. When I talked to him, he would just stare at me with so much love in his big brown eyes. He followed me everywhere. He minded Doug and I well, but wouldn't mind Sean, much to his chagrin. I told him it was because Casey considered him a brother, and no kid minds his brother!

The other day I went to the pet store to get some plants for the fish pond. As I walked past the dogs, I saw a puppy that looked just like Casey, another apricot poodle. I stopped and just stared at him for the longest, choking back the tears. He wanted out so badly, and I seriously considered taking him out to play with him. In the end, I decided I just couldn't do it, not yet. Maybe someday we'll have a dog again, but not for a while. We want the freedom to come and go as we please for now, without worring about someone looking after the dog. Meanwhile, I am comforted by having Casey buried in the back yard. We plan to get him a stone marker. Losing him was hard, but having him for seventeen years was worth the pain.