An Ode to Cassie…and the rest of us
                                            

                       © 2003 by David M. Payne




I remember the first day I saw her at her owner's house twelve
years ago. She was six months old and the last dog in the litter
to sell. She was mostly Rottweiler with a little Doberman and
already a big girl, 60-70 pounds and very shy. She hid under
the bed and had to be coxed out so I could get a look at her. It
was love at first sight.

Having come into the world as an unexpected surprise for Mom
and Dad, I ended up spending a lot of time in semi foster care
searching for love and acceptance, and my place in life. I
learned the value of dogs early on, mine always gave me
unconditional love, something I've only infrequently
experienced with women. I hope some day that'll change.
 
Cassie just blossomed as my best friend. She was never mean
or destructive, easily trained and very protective. She helped
raise three pups, even though she was spade.

A few weeks ago she suddenly started to limp on her right front
leg. When it didn't get better after a few days I took her to the
vets. She had bone cancer from her shoulder to her elbow. It
was pretty advanced by the time we discovered it, and there
was nothing we could do to help her. In the end I had to do the
thing I most wanted not to do, I had to release her from her pain
and this world.

Saturday morning I fixed her breakfast, a London broil with
some beef broth and some of her dry dog food. It was a little bit
of dog heaven for her. Later we went to the park where she
tried to run around, but her leg and her battle with cancer were
too much, and she only lasted a few minuets before I had to
bring her home to rest, until it was time to take her on her final
journey. When we got to A+ vets, I took her in with her blanket
and made a bed for her. Though they had misplaced my
appointment, they still graciously helped her and I on her last
journey. (Thanks girls.) As they gave her the first of two shots I
held her in my arms and rubbed her ears, the thing she most
loved me to do. She died peacefully in my arms.

As much sadness as I have right now, it makes me sadder still
to think of how humanely we treat our pets when it's time for
them to die, and yet we can't do the same for people in similar
circumstances. Between some doctors who think they have
supernatural powers in their hands, or are just trying to
squeeze a few more Mercedes payments out of the dying, and
politicians who think that mythical forces guide their decisions,
we fail as a society to do the right thing for those in the final,
hopeless and painful stages of life. I just hope that if my time is
at an end and my life is nothing but pain and misery, I can find
the release from it that my dogs found when it was their time to
die. Hopefully we will be more humane as a society by then.