[Woodie's Dad]

Well, after a two hour drive this morning, I was at Gulf Coast a little before 11. They took me in to where Woodie was. They had him in a plexiglas box/cage/crate set up so they could give him oxygen, because he was having a real tough time breathing. Dr. Jones had told me about the breathing difficulty already, but I hoped it wasn't any worse than what I had already witnessed at times over the last 5 weeks or so. Well, it was way worse than I had expected. Woodie looked up and saw his mom and I, and he looked so very sad and beat. His tail was wagging though, and he acted like he was glad to see us.
I had in my pocket, his favorite toy. He always loved playing with this rubber chicken that squeaks when you squeeze it. We've probably bought two dozen of them over the last two or three years. His ears perked up when he heard that chicken, but when I put the chicken in with Woodie, and he didn't even nudge it with his nose, I knew it was all over. He was still hooked up to an IV, as they were giving him fluids to try and get the calcium level down in his system. I opened the crate he was in, and was holding him, talking to him, petting him, and trying not to bawl like a baby.
It was so hard.
Dr. Jones had told me it might not be a good idea to take him home and he was right about that too. The decision was not a hard one at all, much easier than if he had of been as "with it" as he was only one week earlier! The look in his eyes as he looked up at me was almost unmistakeable. He was trying to tell me, "Dad get me out of here", or "Dad, make this all end". It hurt so bad feeling him go limp in my arms, but it was worse when I layed him back on the towel in the crate, knowing that he was gone. I know he's better off now, and he's not hurting anymore. I also know that I'm selfish, not wanting to give him up, not wanting to have to be without him. I took him everywhere with me that I could. Being retired, we're home most all the time, so the bond was even tighter. I'm a very big wuss where this little guy was concerned. I know that with time this will get easier. I also know that this will be the last time, no more cute puppies for this old guy. I only got the keep Woodie for five years! They say everything happens for a reaso. Well folks, I'd love to know why a five year old dog, that loved everybody, that never did anything to hurt anybody, only chewed up one table leg and a couple of window sills, should be sentenced to death by cancer.
I joined this forum about 17 days after Woodie was born. I joined the forum before I got him as my own little friend, and now I can say that I may well be done here.
Thanks for all the kind words people, I appreciate it very much. Ya'll are great people, but I don't guess I will be needing to learn about the care and nurturing, and problems yorkies have anymore, so I may never post here again. Maybe I'll get to the point real soon that I don't feel the need to write about feeling that Woodie was robbed. I hope you all out-live your little furball buddies, because this is terrible!!

Chris