RIP Milo: The best damn Dog Obituary you've ever read
Milo was put down today. We had an appointment scheduled for 4:00, and I did my best to be around him and keep him content for the last few days. I carried him upstairs to sleep in my room overnight, as he can't climb them anymore. I mae sure each of my family members saw him at least once over the last few weeks, my dad being the last today.
Milo was a Blue Merle Australian shepherd, something I've repeated often. What it actually means is that he was a gorgeous, friendly dog who ran the dog show circuit in his youth and basically got to have tons and tons of doggy sex and eat classy treats. He was a champion. He came from a friend of our family who was breeding Aussies at the time. He had a playmate named Tilly, also an Aussie, until her death in 2009. As far as dogs go, they loved each other.
My earliest memory was of Milo. It was sitting with him with my sisters at 4 to 6 years old, having our picture taken. You could look at that picture now and not see even a hint of loss of luster in his coat from one taken yesterday. A genuinely beautiful dog. He was a birthday present to my eldest sister Emily. She never took an interest in him as I did, though. To me, Milo was a constant, everlasting best friend. An unequaled, loving ally. A boy and his dog? No question. When I lived on a farm for a few years, I had adventures with him. We explored the woods. We found old treeforts and wooden dynamite boxes around. We discovered a waterfall just romping around way behind my house. I would not exchange these memories for anything. He wasn't like a brother, or a surrogate father, or some dumb shit, he was a dog. An excellent, unequaled family dog.
Milo could smile. His mouth naturally formed into a grin whenever something made him happy, accompanied by his squat little tail wagging away (clipped tail for herding competitions). He loved his family, he loved anyone he recognized, he was a warm, loving creature.
The process of taking him to the vet was a bit excruciating. I had to carry him to and from the car, and my Mom and I sat for about 30 minutes after he was assessed for him to be put down. We sat with him this entire time, and when the Vet finally came to inject him (via a catheter in his leg), he got a bit jumpy. They had to take him to another room to sedate him, which took another long time. I felt very upset at this point. I got up to go back and just be with him a few times, but eventually a woman came back and said he was sedated. We went into the 'operating room' (such as it was) and patted him and said as much as we could. They injected him, and his heart was stopped in less than a minute. My mother and I were left alone with him. We cried, but I swear, I fucking PROMISE, that he died with that little doggy smile on his face. I gave him a final hug and tookhis collar. I didn't want to take it off prior because He always seemed uncomfortable without one.
I'll miss Milo more than anything I can think of. He was an irreducibly unique and lovely dog that I hold more reverence for than any human being I can think of. Good bye, Milo. You're still my best friend.