Goodbye, Smuggly

This past November, we put our dog to sleep. I say “we” but, in my head, I like to blame my parents and everyone else in my house other than myself. I stayed as far away from that decision as possible. It makes me feel better about everything. The days before he was put to sleep, I sort of went MIA. I’d avoid any conversation about what was to happen. But I knew what was about to happen. And I’ll admit that I didn’t protest to stop it from happening. Because a part of me knew it needed to happen. And I couldn’t come up with a convincing enough argument in my head that would dissuade my parents from going forward with the decision.

Smuggly had become old. Sickly. Weak. Likely blind and deaf - sometimes, we’d serve him dinner, dangle his food bowl out in front of him and shake it, and he wouldn’t respond or even notice. His body had become bony. He’d soil himself... limp his way around the house. Struggle to get up or down the steps like he used to. Somedays, he’d barely move at all from his bed on the living room floor.

As he continued to deteriorate, we’d crack playful jokes about it all to make light of the dire circumstances we had no control over. Convince ourselves that it was a temporary phase and that he’d be up and running the next day. But, inside, our hearts were heavy. We knew with each passing day that his end was coming nearer and nearer...

When it finally happened... when he was put to sleep, at first, I felt nothing. I didn’t let myself feel anything. But then, I felt everything all at once. I remember hiding alone in the bathroom messaging some friends about Smuggly. And how the tears hit me all at once. A chapter in my life was over.

Smuggly was a good dog. My first pet. Even if he didn’t know you, he’d rub against you. Wag his tail. Roll over on his stomach. Crawl up on your lap.

As cute as he could be, he was also a pretty funky dog. We’d call him ugly because he kinda was, depending upon the day. Make fun of his smell. Complain about how sometimes he’d position himself on the floor exactly in the middle of things... exactly where you didn’t want him to be. But it was all in good fun. We adored him and accepted al of his idiosyncrasies.

As time went on and I grew up, I’ll admit that I spent less time with Smuggly. But that is not to say I did not love him. I was just busy - distracted by others things in my life. But even in my busy life, he always found ways to grab my attention - sometimes, when I least wanted to give it to him.

For example, in my house, I am the only person who sleeps downstairs. Smuggly’s space is also downstairs in our living room. So, when he needed something in the middle of the night, he’d bark towards me. Sometimes, he’d go as far as to come up to my bedroom door and nudge his way in. It was a nuisance, especially on nights when I had early work the next day. But it was his way of telling me that he needed assistance... and helping him was also the only way I could get him to shut him up, so I’d begrudgingly roll out of bed to figure out what it was that he wanted and go do it. Usually, he just needed me to take him out to ”do his business” or for me to change out the water in his bowl. Refilling his water bowl always came with the added risk that he’d be barking again in 15 minutes or so because he needed to relieve himself outside. Or worse - he wouldn’t bark, but he’d leave a surprise puddle by my door that my feet would find in the morning...

Like most dogs, Smuggly was high maintenance. Dogs really can’t help it. They can’t refill their own bowl of water or exit the house on their own when they need to. Their lives are inextricably tied to that of their owners. So Smuggly was naturally a lot of work for all of us. (Props to my parents for putting in the most work.) But it was work we all were happy to put in... Because Smuggly was our dog. And we were his humans. There was this sense of mutual loyalty.

Smuggly was, in fact, my dog. And I was his human. But when he was put to sleep, I couldn’t bring myself to be there in the room with him. was it selfish? I don’t know. But it was too much for me to handle. I really hope he doesn’t hold it against me...

I hope he’s at peace now. I hope.... he’s in dog heaven. I hope he saw our tears and knows he was loved, and that that offers him happiness.

Smuggly, thanks for being there. Thanks for being my dog. I’m happy to have shared my life with you. We all loved and continue to love you very much.