Our Family Dog Crossed the Rainbow Bridge This Spring

 

My favorite photo of Bolt, taken April 2020
b. June 2007 - d. April 2025

Trigger warning. Description of a dog slipping into frailty and then going to the vet for one last trip. Not too physically graphic, but descriptions of the dog mom's sorrow. 

Everything that is living is aging.  Our beloved dog, Bolt, has been slowing down over the last couple of years.  He is a rescue dog, so we were not certain of his age when we adopted him, but the vet guessed that he was about 15 months old. In June of 2024, he turned 17, which was remarkable given that his probably breed (Indian Spitz) lives for an average of 12 years. 

We adopted him in Kansas when our children were about 11 and 8 years old. 

Kids with Bolt in Kansas

Several years later, Bolt then moved with Michael in his car when the family moved to Indiana. Then when Michael and I moved to Central Utah, he traveled with me in my car.  We have been in Utah for more than a year, and Bolt has been having trouble managing the stairs to the backyard. He has been sleeping more and eating less. He has experienced vision problems and arthritis since before we moved to Utah.  He was not whining in pain, but dogs can sometime endure pain without whining. 

For the last couple of years, 
we have been calling Bolt, "The Old Man." 

I led the conversation with my husband about taking Bolt to the vet to have a compassionate death rather than prolonging his decline into further frailty and disability.  My husband cried out, "No, he's not suffering enough yet." I countered, "Do we have to wait until he cannot walk, cannot stand, and cannot drink or eat at all?"  

Michael tells Bolt, "Goodbye, Good Boy!" 

It was not a happy conversation, but we decided to have Bolt cross the rainbow bridge before he completely fell apart. We chose tax day since it is already a gloomy day. (He would have turned 18 in June of 2025.) We counseled with our adult children who live in Indiana. They agreed that it was time. They said goodbye via Facetime.  

On the appointed day, I was the one who drove him to the vet.  I first gave him a bath and pampered him with extra grooming. While preparing him and driving him, I was resolved, even though I was softly crying.  I figured that Bolt would only know that he was going on a care ride and that he would then go to sleep. I reached over and gave him some love pats and tender scratches on the top of his head and under his chin.  

Bolt was very mellow for weeks prior, 
including during his last car ride. 

When I got to the room with Bolt, I started to change my mind. "No!" I thought, "I want to take him home and cuddle him for a week and take a lot of photos of us together. I do not want to have any regrets!"  However, I realized that I would probably have this same impulse the next time I took him if I rescheduled. And then my children and husband would have to steel themselves for the day again. I would never be completely ready to let him go.  

The vet tech told me that they would give him two shots.  One to go to sleep and one to stop his heart. I held him while he had the first shot and kept holding him until he was soundly asleep. I did not want to stay for the second shot, the one that would stop his heart. I figured that Bolt would have no idea that I was gone, but that I would be very upset, and I would hold a sad memory of him going cold. I wanted to say goodbye why he was still warm.  

Bolt was a member of the family for 15 plus years, and it is sad to say goodbye.  I do not believe I could really orchestrate a perfect farewell. 

Life is full of a lot of events, positive and negative. And even though I expected Bolt to predecease me, I did not expect to sob all the way home from the vet.  I cried every day throughout the week.  I cried at the public library in front of my co-workers.  

I was not a dog person before, but I relented because the family wanted a dog. I may not be a dog person, but I loved this dog. I have to imagine him frolicking in Doggie Heaven with all the dogs that the extended Austin clan has had as furry family members. I married into a dog family, and I found it enriching.  

I am finding dog hair in the house, and it makes me wistfully sad, but I also am telling myself that this is Bolt asking me not to forget him.  I won't forget you, Bolt! We love you.