Our Dog Is Dying

Reflecting on 13 years of life and love

Our dog Amos is dying.

We found out a few months ago that his body was riddled with cancer. There was nothing the vet could do. She told us to take him home and make him as comfortable as possible for as long as possible.

The vet gave us a binder of palliative care tips and information for pets. She suggested we keep track of Amos’s good days and bad days.

Is he eating?

Is he alert?

Does he seem interested in playing?

Can he still walk and move around?

“And when the bad days start outnumbering the good days, you’ll know it’s time,” she said.

My wife Jen was taking all this in through sobs and tears. She clutched the end-of-life binder with both hands, holding it on her lap. Jen’s teardrops fell and pooled on the binder.

“Thank you,” she said.

What else can you say?

Amos was born on December 24, 2008. That’s what his papers say anyway. We’re not sure if they’re accurate. But it’s probably close. We’ve always celebrated his birthday on Christmas Eve.

We got him from the one place everyone says you shouldn’t purchase pets: the pet store at the mall.

It was late spring and we were in the midst of a major life transition. I’d taken a lead pastor position at a church in Ohio. Our house in Indiana had not yet sold, and unbeknownst to us at the time, would not sell for another year. Jen was finishing her master’s degree and teaching college in Indiana.

We were split between Ohio and Indiana. Jen lived at our house in Indiana during the week and would come to Ohio on the weekends. I would come back to our home in Indiana during the week and visit for a day or two when I could.

We went to the local mall once when I was visiting. I don’t remember why. Probably because I’ve always enjoyed browsing at Barnes and Noble. But on this day we also visited the pet store.

And that’s where we met Amos. A gorgeous yellow lab with his adorable lab puppy face.

He was alarmingly close to being too big for the glass-encased cage. He seemed curious and friendly and wanted our attention. We asked to have him removed from the cage so we could visit with him in one of the private rooms.

Amos was a charmer from the start. A little stand-offish at first. But he quickly warmed up to us and especially liked being cuddled by Jen. We could tell he was smart.

“Let’s get him,” I said to Jen.

She was less inclined. We already had two dogs. An aging yellow lab named Abe and a Belgian Malinois named Emmie. The last thing in the world we needed was another dog. Especially with everything else going on in our lives.

The guy at the pet store checked in on us.

“I can’t keep him much longer,” he said. “This dog’s getting too big for the cage.”

The thing about pet stores is that many of the dogs come from puppy mills and if they aren’t homed, they’re often put down. No way I wanted that to happen to this dog. I was already getting attached.

“One hundred bucks,” the pet guy said. “And he’s yours.”

I looked at Jen.

She looked at me.

We definitely didn’t need another dog. But I couldn’t resist. There was just something about this puppy. I wanted him.

“We’ll be saving him,” I said. And I’m pretty sure I gave a pouty face or something like that for emphasis.

Jen conceded. Amos yawned. We took him home that day.

Jen and I have never had kids. That wasn’t intentional, it just never happened. We’ve had dogs instead.

But don’t get the wrong idea. We’ve always seen our dogs as dogs. They’re not our fur babies or anything like that. We don’t do Christmas card photos with our dogs.

Nevertheless, they’re part of our family. We love them. We take good care of them. And Amos was a great addition.

I remember the earliest walks we took with him. After about five minutes he would sit or lie down and refuse to move. We were worried there might be something wrong with his heart. But it turned out that he just needed to build some stamina.

Sitting alone in a glass cage for five or six months tends to mess with your endurance.

Amos grew to become our constant hiking companion. He loved the trails as much as we did and came with us for many trips over the years.

Then there were the seizures.

We’ll never know how many seizures he endured all alone in his kennel while we were at work during the day. But Amos had a diagnosed condition of seizures that tended to happen in the middle of the night.

Jen and I would be sound asleep and suddenly be awakened by Amos scuffling about then falling down, legs kicking, and eyes wide open looking terrified.

We would lie down beside him and pet him and try to calm and soothe him.

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay,” we’d say.

Sometimes it would last for a minute or two. Sometimes longer. Once or twice we thought it might be the end. Thankfully, it never was.

Eventually, the seizure would pass and he’d be fine. Amos would be-bop around as if nothing had happened. And we’d go back to bed, wondering when the next seizure might come.

Amos has been with us for the last 13 years of our 19-year marriage. He’s been with us through some of the most difficult transitions and moments of our lives. He’s seen us at our best and worst.

He’s been with us through four different moves.

He’s seen us fight.

He’s seen us make love.

He’s seen us on the brink of divorce.

He’s seen us refuse to give up.

He’s been our constant hiking companion and partner on long walks. He loves the outdoors.

He was by my side as I battled addiction for 10 years.

He was with me when I was all alone at absolute rock bottom.

He’s been here as I’ve been on the journey of recovery for the past three years.

He’s comforted Jen when my failures have devastated our relationship and left her in tears.

He’s been there through it all.

Faithful. Loyal. Steadfast.

Providing comfort. Friendship. Companionship.

Amos has always given us his unconditional love, acceptance, and support. He’s never wavered. Not once.

Isn’t that what we all crave?