Link: “Head of the Table”, the Tuesday Picture Prompt at Flashy Fiction

Head of the TableHead of the Table, the Tuesday Picture Prompt for 3 December 2013 is waiting for you at Flashy Fiction.

What’s this little wiener doing?  Pull up a chair, pour yourself a glass, and tell us a tale of dogs at the table.

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Definition (from Merriam-Webster online):

the act or practice of killing or permitting the death of hopelessly sick or injured individuals (as persons or domestic animals) in a relatively painless way for reasons of mercy

This morning we had to put down our little weenie dog.  She had back problems and we couldn’t afford the back surgery.  The surgery isn’t a 100% guaranteed fix, anyway.  But, we didn’t think it was right to put the little girl down before giving rehab a chance.  We gave her Prednisone, took her out to potty with a sash to support her back end, and watched her get better.  Not completely better…her back end still wobbled around and she couldn’t quite get one of her feet to flip right side up, but if that had been her only problem, we would not have put her down.  At that point, she was still able to get around, although she looked like she’d been drinking…a lot, she still liked to play with her squeeky toy, and spend time with the family.  Unfortunately, what the vet told us could happen did.  Due, in part, to her difficulty in movement and partly due to a (likely) loss of some sensation in the bladder, she wasn’t getting all her pee out which led to a bladder infection and could have led to kidney failure.  The last few days she’d been shaking and didn’t want to go out and potty, both of which convinced us that it was finally time.  At that point, her quality of life and level of pain/discomfort were not sufficient for us to be selfish enough to keep her around.

That’s a bit more back story to how I got to this topic today than I had initially intended.  We chose to euthanize our pet, dog, family member because her quality of life had taken a big hit and because she was in obvious pain.

So, here’s my big question:  Why is it that we, as a society, are okay with euthanizing our pets, but not our family members who have terminal/painful diseases?  We force them to soldier on, taking whatever medicine the doctors prescribe and watching their health continue to decline while the costs for care continue to add up.  Why?  Because it’s “inhumane” to kill people, but, apparently, not to watch them suffer and live in pain.  In this, I think our pets are better off than us.

What’s in a Name?

Our newest child was born on the 9th of this month and we should be picking him up from the breeder around the first week of May.  He’s a cream, long-haired Dachshund…and I’m really hoping he’s got a disposition like our old man, Duncan.

Our New BabyNow we’re playing the name game, trying to pick the right one for him.  We both like Connor, but one of my cousins named their child that…we think.  My wife looked through a list of German names, but didn’t see any she liked.  We kind of like Falco and she’s called the old man (our 12 year old dapple Dachshund) Falcor before while holding his ears out like he could fly.

We tried to think of Irish names.  My wife likes Finnegan and Finian, but I’m not fond of the idea of either getting shortened to Finn.  I thought of Guinness, in honor of the creamy head, and then Jameson, which our younger daughter really likes.  My wife thought of Bailey.

I’ve also suggested:  Aragorn, Emeris, Biscotti, Amaretto, Harry Stamper (he’s going to be hairy), Grimm, Keats, and Tattoieenie.  Okay, the last one was a joke.

My older daughter put forth Oskar, but her mom and I think of Oscar the Grouch and so aren’t really feeling that one.

A little while ago, we played around with drawing names from a hat and Jameson, eventually, became the one we’re all leaning toward…well, three out of four of us.  We’ll likely make the final decision when we pick him.

I may end up calling him dumber or dummy, but I hope he surprises me and is brighter than our current wieners, and, ultimately, he’s going to be a cute little dog that will make my wife happy…which is the whole point.

“…but the alternative was DEATH!”

Dumber [my nickname for Noel], our  female Dachshund, is recovering, rather miraculously, from some sort of back injury.  Tonight, she wanted to play and my wife started to play with her before I suggested that it might not be a good idea.  A few minutes ago, Dumber was looking at my wife while they were both sitting on the coach and my wife told her “I’m sorry.  I know this hasn’t been fun for you, but the alternative was death.”

I know the stupid dog didn’t understand her, but I found it to be fairly hilarious.

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