Our beloved Casey ended his struggle with cancer today and now is resting in peace. We did everything we could to try to save his life but Casey’s cancer was too powerful and it spread too rapidly and too far so we recognized it was time to say goodbye one last time and take Casey for his final appointment at Oakwood Hills Animal Hospital, which we did earlier today. Casey has been a truly wonderful best friend and devoted companion. He has brought immense joy, comfort, support, and love to us. He has been the best pet I have ever had, and I have had many great pets. We will always treasure the memory of our ten and one-half years with Casey.
I will recall so much about Casey. From the moment when we first picked him up and he immediately adopted me with incredible serenity, resting peacefully on my lap the entire one and one-half hours’ drive home through the bitter end of his last few days, and our last shared moments together, sharing the few pleasures Casey could continue to appreciate–eating popcorn and sleeping at the foot of our bed. Casey was (until he became mortally ill) fearless in his readiness to embrace anything and everything, anyone and everyone, as a potential dear friend. He loved to play all the way until he became seriously ill and he always greeted both of us with enormous enthusiasm. He loved sitting on laps as well as directly between us or cozied up to one or both of us. He loved taking long walks, until he was all tired out, and always pulling ahead if he could (until he became blind, and then had to become much more cautious, and could only walk short distances). When younger he loved to run, including with sticks in his mouth much longer than him. He loved fleece pet blankets and he carried these all about the house with him, continually playing with them in a vast number of games he created to amuse himself–and us. He loved bully sticks, especially bully springs, and his inability to take delight in these all that often as well as the lapse in his tail, so that it rarely stood full up and rarely wagged anymore, indicated quite clearly his life was near an end–because Casey was a dog whose tail has almost always been up and wagging, just about all the time, while he often was so happy and so excited that he wagged his whole body back and forth. I will well remember how Casey continued, up until he became blind, to frequently initiate the famous dog play signal with us, and found a plethora of objects and games we played with him to represent opportunities for thrilling adventure.
Casey was a smart dog, who learned the whole ensemble of basic commands quickly, and starred at doing agility work, even if at times he could be stubborn about when and if he would obey commands. Casey also developed an uncanny ability not only to anticipate virtually every one of our routines but also variations from routines–including anticipating trips we would take days before our departure even if we had tried deliberately not to signal this was approaching to Casey. Casey loved spending his time directly, and immediately, with us, close to us, in our respective studies/home offices, in our basement watching movies and TV, close by while we were exercising on machines or I was playing the drums we also keep in our basement, while we were reading in our living room, and while we were spending time in our kitchen and foyer. He could become extremely hyper, when he was excited but not able immediately to explore the prospective source of this excitement–such as when repair workers visited our house–but people delighted in him everywhere he ventured, and at places we took him for various forms of treatment, and to stay during trips, people always told us he was tremendous fun–exceptionally lively, interactive, and friendly. Casey comforted us too whenever we were down, as he could sense that this was the case, again uncannily so, and he conveyed many ways of expressing to us his feelings of contentment, satisfaction, and appreciation for us, and for what we were sharing with him. Casey was there for me, always, again and again and again, without fail, day in and day out, and I needed him, often a lot. I don’t know what I will do without him, it feels so heartbreaking, but I will do my best to carry on.
Casey experienced a hard life, but a good one. He needed to have his gall bladder removed at age three, and he ended up going through ultimately three rounds of mast cell tumors as well as in his last four months of his life going blind. But Casey put up with a lot, and was remarkably agreeable and cooperative, even when facing discomfort and pain, because he trusted us. Casey readily assumed the role of family dog, immediately upon arrival, with great panache, and made himself a forceful, central presence in our family life from the moment he first arrived to the end, while he got along remarkably well with our previous cat Brendan, as well as with our two current cats, Star and Jet. Casey vaguely acknowledged Aidan, our new puppy, but sadly was far too old and ill to do much more than that, but Aidan, sweetly, licked Casey’s face several times, which Casey readily accepted.
Casey was a long, tall, large pug, my and our first ever black pug. Ironically, he suffered none of the problems that pugs are prone toward. But tendencies to develop mast cell cancer can be inherited by dogs of virtually all breeds, and it is difficult to know if and when this is the case when they are puppies. We know a lot more about cancer and blindness in dogs than we did not that long ago, and I pay tribute not only to the team of veterinarians and technicians and everyone else at Oakwood Hills that helped take care of Casey’s health throughout his life, but also to the same at U of Minnesota Veterinary Oncology–Dr. Jack O’Day, whom I only met by phone, was most impressively precise, thorough, caring, compassionate, and empathetic. Casey got to know lots of people at Oakwood Hills, but Dr. Sarah Watson likely spend the most time with Casey, and us, when Casey was experiencing the greatest challenges, and we also deeply appreciate her and all she does.
It’s been exceedingly tough to go through the process of a beloved friend and companion dying throughout this past summer, and even from the late spring into summer, attempting to do all we possibly could to help out and prolong his life as well as at least reduce if not eliminate pain and discomfort, in effect saying goodbye to Casey, over and over again, throughout this time. And the final goodbye has been exceedingly tough as well. But we know it is right, it is time, and it is for the best. Last night he enjoyed popcorn with us one last time, and lay contentedly on my lap for several hours as well as slept right up between us over night, again for the last time. I wish I possessed the eloquence of my friend and colleague BJ Hollars or my father and stepmother in being able adequately to do justice to what a great dog has meant to me, but I have done my best here. I will end by just adding that it indeed would be fantastic if we could meet again across the rainbow bridge. Goodbye Casey; we will love you, tremendously, absolutely, always.
