Merlin 3/7/97 - 10/3/06

Yesterday our dog Merlin unexpectedly crossed the Rainbow Bridge to Heaven. Merlin, or Merls as we often called him, was 9. They were nine wonderful years that ended too suddenly. There was no time to prepare - mentally or emotionally - but it was the most humane decision we could do for him.

Merlin had recently had trouble walking; the past week, he'd walk a few steps, then have to lay down. Then he could walk a few more. He seemed fine outwardly, but an x-ray showed that inside, he was in a lot of pain. He had a large tumor in his front leg and cancer had detoriated his upper leg bone to almost nothing. We could have tried to amputate his leg, and then use chemotherapy, but the vet couldn't promise that he'd live for much longer, and his pain would still be intense.

Unfortunately, I wasn't with Merlin at the appointment. Dave was able to leave work early and go with my mom to help her load him into the car. I'll always feel guilty about not being there to say good-bye to him, and I hope Merlin understands. The last time I saw Merlin was 2 weeks ago when we went to help my mom with a few things around the house. Mom and I gave Merlin a bath (which he loved) and after we were done washing him, he'd run around outside so excited and happy. I never would have thought that he had terminal bone cancer in his leg; he certainly didn't seem like he was dying. Sure, he'd slowed down over the years, but I didn't think I'd have to say good-bye so soon.

I was there the day we picked up Merlin from the breeder's home. It was summer and he was 3 months old. I held him the whole way home; he was so excited (or maybe he was scared) that he got sick in the car. But once we got him into our big back yard to play, he was all energy!
The picture to the side is from the day we brought him home. He was so small he would play inside a plastic sweater box - one of the small ones you slide under your bed. We had little idea that he'd grow into our 100 lb joy.

Merlin loved people, and he was such a good dog. When I'd pull up to the house, he'd always be at the door with his tail wagging. If he wasn't at the door, he was laying on the back porch and would run up to me to greet me. I'd always give him a treat when we went inside, and if I forgot, he'd sit in the kitchen and look up on top of the fridge where we kept the treats until I remembered to give him a biscuit. Merls loved to run outside, and he'd run sideways through the hedges so that they'd scratch his body. Back and forth he'd go getting his free scratches. He was a really smart dog.

He knew many commands, and over the years, we found we could play a trick on him by saying "You stink!" and he'd bark like we said "Speak!". He knew when he made us laugh because he'd get that special gleam in his eyes and do it again. He would often lay in front of the TV when you were watching it so that you'd be looking at him, and him at you, while you were catching the program on the TV. In the summer he'd love to lay in his baby pool with water. He'd always circle three times before laying down to cool off. In fall, he'd steal the mini pumpkins off of my mom's porch and run with them in his mouth to make you chase him. And in winter, he'd put his nose in the snow and run along, pushing snow up into the air and running through it.

He was a beautiful dog. His fur was the color of a Hershey's chocolate bar, and he had the absolute softest ears. His "velvet ears" we'd call them. Over the years he started to get grey under his chin. He was getting older, and he certainly didn't have the energy that he once did as a puppy, but I thought we had years left to experience together. I keep trying to remind myself that he isn't in any pain any more, but it's hard because outwardly, he didn't appear to be in any pain anyways. He was always there for me; a lot has happened in the past 9 years, but Merls was my constant source of joy when I visited the home where I grew up. I hope he knows that I'm sorry he is gone, and that I will miss him as much as I loved him. Maybe he is running around in Heaven or walking with my Gram until we all meet again. Then I can tell him what I'd always say before I'd leave:

Good night sweet boy - I love you. You're a good, good dog.