One of The Sad Memories

I frequently revisit the many dogs in our lives by going through old photos. Here are photos of and a story about Deuti, one of our Lhasas.

Deuteronomy

Deuti, short for "Deuteronomy" was one of our non-show dogs. Deuti was my husband's dog, and Lynn taught him tricks and kept him in show coat condition, although Deuti never once stepped in a show ring. Deuti was born with one eye smaller than the other. I'm sure there is some medical name for the anomaly, but "one eye smaller than the other" gives you the general idea.

Lynn and Deuti shared the sofa, a mutual love for each other and, occasionally, a microbrewery beer. When the beer was gone, Lynn would hold the bottle at an angle so Deuti could stick his tongue in the opening to lick out the last drops. Deuti was Lynn's dog through and through. He played with the kids and was especially protective our daughter. He did not appreciate our oldest who often picked on his younger siblings just to hear them yell. More than once Deuti would chase him up the stairs if he thought he was out of line with either of the younger kids. (I'd be willing to guess that the two young ones used Deuti's protective nature as a way to get even with their older brother on more than one occasion, crying "foul" for no reason!)

Deuti often got what we refer to as the "Lhasa crazies." Those of you with Lhasas may call it by a different name, but you know what I mean…that sudden urge that makes them run around and around in circles, jumping on furniture and over obstacles in their path if need be. Deuti was great jumper and he delighted in showing off his jumping prowess. He could jump onto the sofa from halfway across the room and fly from sofa to love seat effortlessly.

In the wee hours of the July 1997 morning, Deuti's crying and barking woke me up. Thinking he must have to potty, I went downstairs, opened his crate to let him out, and was surprised when he did not move. Finally, I reached in and picked him up and took him outside. Again, he did not move when I put him down. Finally I realized that he was unable to move his back legs. Panicked, I called the vet and took Deuti to him for x-rays. His spine had been injured somehow, perhaps from the wild jumping he so enjoyed.

Lynn was out of town for the day. Here were my options: I could rush Deuti to the U of I Veterinary School (about 3 hours away in Champaign) for an operation. Estimated cost was over $6000 for the surgery alone. The vet told me in all honesty there was less than a 40% chance of a successful surgery and recovery. Deuti could die during surgery or the surgery would not fix the problem. The other option was to euthanize him.

Deuti did not seem to be in pain. More than anything he appeared to be confused about what was happening, wondering why he could not move. His eyes begged me to "do something." One thing I knew was, as much as we all loved Deuti, I could not afford the surgery, especially when the odds of recovery were not very good. Nor could I envision the poor quality of life this active, bouncy, energetic dog would have to endure. Money was definitely tight at that point in our lives. Our oldest would begin college in August. I could not justify borrowing money and putting us deeper in debt for a surgery with such poor odds of actually helping. I know some of you might criticize that choice, but it was one we had to make. It was not an easy choice, I assure you.

I knew Lynn would want to be with Deuti. Armed with medications to make Deuti comfortable, I opted to take him home to wait for Lynn's return that afternoon. Then together we took him to the vet where we held him, reassured him, kissed him, and tearfully said good-bye.

For the longest time, a flower-filled beer bottle graced Deuti's grave.

Life is good when you have a Lhasa to love you. Deuti brought much love and laughter into our family life and left us all too soon. He's waiting for Lynn at the Rainbow Bridge, expecting to share a drop of beer when Lynn arrives.

Joyce

He Waits for You at Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When a dog that has been especially close to someone here dies,

 he goes to Rainbow Bridge.

Rich, rolling meadows and hills provide a playground

where he can romp, frolic, and play with other dogs

who have left their loved ones behind.

At Rainbow Bridge, there is plenty of tasty food, sweet water, and warm golden sunshine so our dogs are warm and comfortable.

Every dog who was ill is now restored to health and vigor;

those who were hurt or maimed are whole and strong again,

 just as we remember them in our dreams of days gone by.

All are happy and content, except for one small thing;

they each miss someone special to them, someone whom they left behind.

They all run and play together,

 but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance.

His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers.

Suddenly he runs from the group, flying over the green grass,

legs carrying him faster and faster.

YOU have been spotted,

and when you and your special friend finally meet again,

you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted.

His happy kisses rain upon your face;

 your hands again caress his beloved head,

and you look once more into his trusting eyes.

Gone  from your life, he has never been absent from your heart.

More hugs and kisses and dances of joy…

Then angels beckon and you cross the Rainbow Bridge side by side....

--Author unknown