My 12 year old Llewellin Setter Duke went to the Rainbow Bridge this past Monday morning. It's amazing how we dawg lovers allow these animals to become such an integral part of our life.
Duke was the 7th gun dawg I've owned in my 62 years. One might think that losing a dawg would get easier as you get older. It isn't. I cried all the way to the clinic, during the last 15 minutes of Duke's life while I was with him and his life-long vet, and all the way back home. Then I had to face a crying Carol and Grandma who both loved Duke dearly too. I intentionally left without them knowing that this was "the" trip for Duke. They woudn't have been able to deal with saying a final goodbye to him.
Dr. Jerry examined Duke, felt his pronounced chest tumors and, knowing that his stools had turned black recently, reassured me that this was Duke's time, irrespective of any other reasons.
Duke is now in a better place with other of my passed gun dawgs, only one of which he had the pleasure of knowing and hunting with. I'm sure that they will be running through the grassy cover again together. Just like the Bridge poem ... young and free of pain, happily running and playing together until that time when they both stop, look up, stare intently and they then hear a familar voice calling out ... "C'mon boys, hunt em up, good dawgs".
Here's Duke a few months ago just before Xmas, his favorite time of the year since he no longer was able to hunt. Duke, my yellar Lab Cappy, and I were discussing where to hide their "mommie and grandma's" presents.
And on a more serious note ... Duke in his younger years doing what he was bred to do ... and doing it very well ...
Duke has gone to the Rainbow Bridge
