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| I left for work early on the morning
of July 18. My husband, Dan, and I usually carpool, but
because I had plans to take the afternoon off, we decided
to drive in separately. When I got to about a mile north of our farm, I noticed a very large, dark object lying on the right side of the road. "A dead Angus calf?" I wondered. "Or maybe it's that black bear people have been seeing around!" As I drove by, I glanced over and was shocked to see that it was a dog--a Great Dane--and he was alive! "Oh, how awful--he must have been hit by a car. What do I do now?" As an avowed dog lover, the first step was easy--turn around! After that, things got decidedly more difficult. I have lived with dogs since I was a child, and Dan and I already had three dogs. But all of these past and present pups were well under forty pounds. I had never even touched a Dane before. He was absolutely huge! Knowing that injured and frightened animals often bite made me even more nervous. What if he was rabid? I pulled up even with him on the other side of the road and rolled down my window. He was lying with his chin flat on the asphalt between his front legs. His back legs were off to one side in such a way that I couldn't tell if he was injured. There didn't seem to be any external bleeding but I was still afraid to get too close, so I started talking to him. He barely lifted his eyes towards me, much less his head. I got out of the truck to take a careful closer look, talking to him as I inched closer. He followed me with his eyes, appearing to take a little more interest but still not moving. After a few minutes, he hadn't even lifted his head, and I gave up on him standing on his own. Not certain of what to do next, the only thing I knew for sure was that the situation was way over my head. Just as I was going to get back in my truck and call the police, the dog gave a deep, pained sigh and with great difficulty lurched to his feet. My heart jumped with fearful anticipation as he hobbled over to me. He seemed unable to decide which leg to limp on. As he got closer, I tentatively put out my arm. Without any hesitation, he rested his chin in the palm of my hand, looked up at me, and again sighed loudly. "Now what do I do?" I asked him. Upon closer inspection, I discovered how painfully thin he was. Every bone seemed to stick out of his coarse, mottled coat. He wasn't wearing a collar or any identification. A very swollen, open wound was visible on his front toe and he kept lifting his left hind leg to keep the weight off. I put the tailgate down on my truck, not sure how this was going to work. But the big dog was sure--he immediately heaved his front feet up, back feet remaining on the ground. Too weak to climb in, he looked up at me expectantly, so I held my breath and lifted his back end in. Once inside, he walked right up behind the cab and lay down, obviously a veteran of pickup truck rides. When I pulled back into our driveway, Dan was letting our dogs out. "Put the dogs in the kennel and come see what I found," I said while running to the barn to get a lead rope. As I headed back to the truck Dan said, "Thanks for the new dog! Can we name him Thor?" "We're NOT keeping him!" I snapped in total denial. "I'll make some calls this afternoon and take him to the county animal shelter." "Sure you will," Dan said, with more than just a hint of sarcasm. I shook my head as I thought of our very small, newly remodeled farmhouse, our partially completed addition, our partially renovated barn, our five horses, three dogs, two llamas, the cat, the cow, and all of our bills. "We can't afford four dogs, especially a Great Dane!" I said adamantly. |
 ~ Thor ~ Shortly after we found him.  My Lap Dogs! Thor & Kirby  Lara Hill & Dan Oles and their canine friends! |
We carefully put the lead rope on "Thor," and helped him stand and get out of the truck. It was pretty chaotic. Our dogs barked and yapped from their kennel, the llamas got nervous and cried out with a weird alarm call we had never heard before, and the horses all stood on guard trying to figure out who and what this stranger was. Throughout, Thor remained calm as I led him over to the barn and put him in an empty box stall. When we gave him a bowl of dog food and some water he just lay there and weakly thumped the tip of his tail once. He seemed to feel totally hopeless and depressed. By this time, Dan and I really had to leave for work. "Sorry boy, I'll see you around noon," I said. When I checked in on him after work, he had eaten all his food and drank some water, and even mustered a couple of halfway tail wags. I gave him another cup of dog food and he started eating enthusiastically. A little more encouraged, I sat down to make the necessary phone calls. Neither the county animal shelter nor the Humane Society had news of a missing Dane. The sheriff and police were of no help. None of the local vets had a patient fitting his description. I was starting to run out of ideas, when I remembered that a local horse breeder also bred Great Danes. When I called the breeder with my story, she became very concerned. "What color is he?" she asked. "I don't know, kind of gray with black spots. I've never seen anything like it," I replied. "Oh, a merle. What kind of rotten people. . ." she muttered under her breath. "Can you tell how old he is?" "He looks kind of old; he has white on his muzzle and he seems to have really stiff hips," I responded. "Merles get gray real young. He's probably a lot younger than you think." Getting to the point, I said desperately, "I was hoping you could help me find his owner." "Oh God, you can't let him go back to his old owner!" she exclaimed. "Obviously, they mistreated him. You're going to keep him, aren't you?" "I can't keep him! I already have three dogs. If no one calls me I'm taking him to the animal shelter," I answered. "You should think about it," she said. "Danes are wonderful, loving dogs and great pets. Once you go Dane you never go back." I was starting to feel cornered at this point, so I thanked her and hung up the phone. By the time I called the animal shelter, they were about to close. We were going to have to keep him overnight. I told the worker that I would bring him in the next morning. But the breeder's words kept echoing through my head: "Once you go Dane, you never go back . . . ." When I went back out to the barn our guest was actually standing up. He started to slowly wag his whole tail as I approached. I went in the stall and began to pet him and feel for any injuries. He flinched at my first touch, as if he expected it to hurt, but the second and third touches he seemed to enjoy. I realized, horrified, that someone must have beaten him at one time. He still wouldn't put much weight on his left hind leg, but I found no sore points besides the wound on his front foot. He had dozens of tiny deer ticks wandering all over him, but none were engorged or even stuck. Their presence seemed strange, since our dogs had not had many ticks since May. His coat was very rough and brittle. Lots of dead, stringy hairs came off as I petted him and picked off the ticks. He needed a bath, so I put the lead on him and opened the door. "Come on, Thor, let's give you a bath," I said as I led him outside. (What else was I supposed to call him?) As soon as we got out of the barn he crouched to urinate. Apparently, he was well housebroken. He stood like a gentleman as I scrubbed him with my horse shampoo and curry mitt, and then rinsed. The only problem was that he didn't like his injured toe to be touched. Since I still didn't fully trust him--and I wanted all my appendages intact--I let the foot be. I soon learned that he knew how to sit, down, and heel on command. Obviously, at some time, someone had worked with him on obedience training. He was still kind of weak and not overly affectionate, but he was very calm and nice. Plus, he was such a giant! In spite of myself, I was starting to like him. Never in my life had I even considered getting a Dane! In fact, whenever I would get the rare opportunity to see one, all I ever thought was "Why would anyone in their right mind want a dog that big? It must eat and excrete by the ton!" Our three dogs combined weigh less than an average Lab. Sheba, our Husky, and Emily, our English Setter, both tip the scales at around 38 pounds, and Kirby the Cairn Terrier--the apple of my eye--weighs only 17 pounds. But this big dog was an intriguing mystery to me. His ears were clipped and he was neutered, so someone had spent some time and money on him. "What's your name, boy, and where are you from?" I asked him pointlessly as he looked at me with somber amber eyes. "God, how could I be so stupid?" I thought. "We're going to get stuck with him. I can't let him go to the pound and be euthanized. Besides, who could give him a better home than us? But we need another dog like a hole in the head. People already call our place a petting zoo." I tried to reason with myself, but he was already working his way into my heart. I decided to take Thor for a walk. As we ambled down the road, a car pulled up and stopped. It was a neighbor from up the valley who we hadn't done more than wave to in a couple of years. He rolled down his window and asked, "What's that, a new horse? Ha, ha!" After listening to my story, he admired Thor, wished us luck, and pulled away. "That's interesting," I thought, "We've brought four new horses home in the past two years and he's never stopped to ask about them." I looked at Thor, shrugged my shoulders, and walked on until he did his business. Next, I took him over to meet the dogs. He seemed pretty indifferent about them through the kennel gate, so I let them out one at a time to get acquainted. They went through the usual sniffing without a problem, even though the Cairn always meets new dogs by running around and yapping obnoxiously. I thought, "Maybe if he doesn't eat Kirby, this could work." I took them all into the house to see what would happen. Thor was very happy to be inside. He immediately lay down on our living room rug and slept contentedly. "This is the mellowest, most well-behaved dog I have ever met!" I thought. When Dan came home that night, we discussed the possibility of making Thor part of our family. We never seem to have any money, but we always seem to have enough to get by. What was one more animal? If nobody claimed him, we decided to give Thor a trial run for a couple of weeks. If it didn't work out, we would take him to the shelter. We spent the rest of that evening getting used to having such a massive animal in our house and saying things like: "Holy cow, is he huge!" "Just look at him compared to Emily!" "He's taller than the kitchen table!" "He could put his chin on the kitchen counter with a tilt of his head!" "When he lays down he takes up the whole living room!" "Look how big his head is! Look at those feet!" We watched his interactions with the other dogs carefully. He almost seemed more content than they were. All he wanted to do was sleep, while our dogs paced around nervously, not knowing why this big thing was in their house. In hindsight, I realize Thor was so weak from starvation and exhausted from his ordeals, he was happy just to be on a soft rug to rest. The next day, I called the shelter and told them that we would keep him unless someone claimed him or he didn't fit into our family. The first few days went pretty well. Thor seemed to get along great with Kirby and Sheba. Emily kind of irritated him when she got too close, but he gave her a couple of warning growls and they left each other alone. He pretty much ignored the cat, which made her very happy. The llamas continued to "kek, kek, kek" at him and scurry around whenever he walked by. Thor hardly noticed them until he realized the fun he could have making them run in and out of the barn just by looking at them. The horses seemed to bother him a bit, but they mostly ignored him. I don't think he liked having animals around that were so much bigger than him. Occasionally, he barked at them--at which time we learned that he also knew the command "Quiet!" So, except for the llamas, everyone seemed to adjust quickly to our new family member. As the days went by, Thor seemed to gain strength and personality with each meal. Then he started bonding with Dan and me. If we were standing, he would walk over, slide his head under our hands and lean against our legs. If we were sitting, Thor would look us directly in the eyes or, to our amazement, he would turn around and plop his hind end in our laps! Sometimes, he would sit down on the couch next to us with all four feet on the ground. Next, he started lying on the couch. It was funny at first how he took up the whole thing, until the times we wanted to relax and there was no place for us to sit. The only time Thor chose to lay on the floor was at night. He would have loved to sleep with us like Kirby, but our double bed was too small. Even though we let him sleep on the guest room futon, he would usually lay on the rug beside us. Thor dreamed a lot. Many times we would wake to his "running" and "woofing" in his sleep. It seemed to shake the whole house! Thor's toe continued to bother him. The wound was red, open, and swollen to the size of a golf ball. He constantly licked it. We decided to treat him the way we treated our horses, soaking the foot in warm water, Betadine, and Epsom salts, and then wrapping it in Vetwrap. He didn't like it but he was a good patient. We found that we had to replace the bandage often, not because he chewed it off, but because he licked right through it. The toe seemed to slowly get better unless we left it unwrapped for a day, and then it would get red again. We performed a series of tests on Thor to make sure we could trust him. We went through dominance routines, like taking away his rope bone or making him get off the couch for no reason. He seemed content to let us maintain our alpha status in the "pack." We left food on the table or counter and watched to see if he would try to steal it, but he had impeccable manners in the kitchen. We watched all the other dogs closely as they ate their food, ready to prevent any possible fights. Thor would merely stand over his bowl protectively and curl his lip if the other dogs came too close--not a problem. We took him for car rides and he rode in the (entire) back seat happily, without moving. The final challenge was a visit to the county fair, where a friend of ours was exhibiting in 4-H. We figured that if he made it through the hustle and bustle of the fair, he was foolproof. But I think we were tested as much as he was. Thor was on his best behavior as always, even with all the different animals and people. We found it hilarious how much attention he attracted, even though there were hundreds of sheep, pigs, cows, rabbits, chickens, and other animals around. Everyone had a comment: "Do you have a saddle for that thing?" "Are you showing him in the cow or horse class?" "Where's his stall?" or they simply remarked to each other "Did you see that huge dog?!" He lay down all through the competition, and then endured petting by groups people, mostly children. As we took him home, we decided he was a diamond in the rough and if we could stand all the cheesy comments we would have to keep him. Dan bought a book about Great Danes at the pet store. We learned a lot about the breed as we read it. Compared to the standard, Thor was a mess. His color, merle, is an unacceptable show color, and his yellowish eyes were a fault as well. He had a hollow back, narrow front legs, straight stifled hind legs, and bad toes. But he did possess the wonderful disposition typical of Great Danes, which was all that mattered to us. One thing the book stressed is that "Giant dogs are a GIANT responsibility." We didn't argue, but we now realized the GIANT benefits they give back: love, devotion, companionship, security, and even entertainment. After a week of no one calling about him, we decided to post an ad in the lost and found section of the newspaper. We wanted to cover all the bases before we took him to the vet and claimed him as our own. By this time, however, we knew we were hooked. Someone would have to tell an awfully compelling story before we would give him back. As it turned out, no one called. We figured someone from a big city probably dumped him off in the country, hoping some farmer would adopt him. We're sure he didn't run away from anyone because he stayed in our yard from day one. Near the end of the second week, we took him to the vet for vaccinations and to check out his general health. Thor took the vaccinations well, but struggled a bit for the toenail clipping. The vet estimated by his teeth that Thor was between two and three years old. He diagnosed Thor's toe condition as a "lick granuloma"--an old wound festered and callused by his constant licking. He recommended putting the caustic horse medicine DMSO on his toe, both to heal it and to discourage Thor from licking it. He figured our big dog had a bit of arthritis in his hips, and prescribed daily doses of aspirin, vitamin C, and vitamin E. Thor was still thin at 125 pounds. The vet said to keep him lean to prevent unnecessary strain on his hips; five to ten more pounds would be enough. After a couple of days we realized the DMSO wasn't working. Thor licked his toe anyway. We decided to return to wrapping it and putting Furazone on it, and we added a bitter lotion to the top of the bandage to discourage licking. This seemed to work a little better, but we still had to scold him when we caught him licking it. The good news was that Thor's hips seemed to be less stiff and painful. I don't know if it was due to proper nutrition or the aspirin and vitamins. Probably both. He still ran with that awkward, clumsy stride of a dog with hip dysplasia, but he was doing pretty well. We figured that with the Dane's short life expectancy (less than nine years), Thor would be kind of a short-timer anyway. We told ourselves we wouldn't hesitate to put him down if his pain became too great, knowing that we had given him at least a few years of good life. We settled in to a routine of putting Thor in a box stall during the day while we were at work. The problem was that we had already contracted for some work on the barn, reinforcing the limestone wall, replacing the support poles, and jacking up the sagging beams. Thor had never messed in his stall, but we were still nervous about leaving him alone in our house all day. However, since he couldn't fit in the dog kennel, the house was the only other option. The first day, I packed away my expensive china horse collection and hoped for the best. We soon found he was content to sleep on the couch all day. He was not nervous or destructive whatsoever, and he seemed to have an iron bladder. We like to think these four weeks were the best Thor ever had. Every day when we returned home he would greet us enthusiastically at the door. He had a habit of picking up anything he could find--bones, socks, pillows, blankets (or all of the above at once)--and offering them to us at the door as he "woofed" loudly. His tail had become a hazard when he was happy. When he spun around excitedly as it wagged, it felt like a whip! Most of our friends and family thought we were crazy, but his antics were totally charming to us. Our other "enlightened" friends and family members became Thor's devoted fans. This was a busy summer for us. We constantly worked on the construction of our new porch and mud room. We had been planning it for years, but we made some modifications for Thor. Our dogs had always stayed in a large kennel with an insulated doghouse during the day while we worked. We liked it that way, because they could walk around, bark at stuff, relieve themselves, drink water, and play together. They kept each other cozy and warm on all but the coldest days, when we left them inside. But Thor's short hair would not get him through the cold Wisconsin winters in the kennel. So we insulated the porch more and put some furnace duct work in for heat. We added a giant doggy door so he could go in and out of a fenced area whenever he wanted, and ordered a twin mattress for him to lie on. The project soon became known as "Thor's Porch." Each day, we got more and more attached to Thor. Dan would get up in the morning first, and while he was in the shower I would go into the guest room and lay on the futon next to Thor. The other dogs would follow me and it was so warm and cozy to snuggle with them, it became difficult to get up for work. One evening was unusually cold, even for the beginning of fall, so I decided to bake an apple pie. While it was in the oven, I set the timer and squeezed in behind Thor on the couch. He grunted in protest at first, but after I got settled and put my arm around him he seemed as warm and happy as I was. I remember thinking, "This winter will be great! I can curl up with Thor and a book on those long cold winter nights when Dan (who is more motivated) is outside working on his projects." Even though he was a big sweetheart, Thor was an intimidating presence even to the most dedicated dog lovers when they first met him. His yellow eyes were kind of spooky until you learned to see the playful and loving personality behind them. One day a man in a big truck pulled into the driveway. I was brushing Thor on the front porch, so he and I ran down to find out what the stranger needed. As we approached the truck, the man's eyes almost popped out of his head, and he remained seated in the cab. He stared at Thor nervously as he spoke. He was a fence salesman and he wondered if we needed any cattle panels. I told him we didn't, and he swiftly pulled out of the drive without a big sales pitch. I looked at Thor and said, "Too bad you can't do that to phone salespeople!" There are a lot of coyotes in the woods near our house; we hear them howling up on the hill periodically. One time, in the middle of the night, when the windows were open, they were howling extra loud and close. Thor got up, ran to the window, and barked his deep alarm bark. Then, to our drowsy amusement, he started howling back, something our other dogs have never done. It was a real funny howl, "Howoooawoooawoooawoooooooo!" It sounded kind of raspy and rusty, like he needed to clear his throat. The coyotes immediately shut up and probably slunk away. We fell back asleep with smiles on our faces. When you have such a big dog in your home, it makes you feel so safe. Thor was eating ten cups of quality dog food every day, and he had settled at a nice weight. He was still thin, but his ribs, chest, spine, and hips were finally covered with flesh. We groomed Thor often with a soft rubber curry mitt and his coat was shiny and healthy. His toe was getting better, and he seemed to get over his obsession of licking it all the time. He remained flinchy to the first touch, especially when we scolded him; perhaps he hadn't quite fathomed the fact that we weren't going to beat him. We hoped his fear would lessen over time. As he grew healthier and happier his personality became stronger and he began to be more assertive with the other dogs. In the beginning Kirby could take a bone out of Thor's mouth without a problem. Now Thor could hold his own in a confrontation, and he even started challenging Sheba, who was the "alpha" dog when it came to food. All she ever had to do was stand over her food glaring, and no one even dared to test her--until Thor. Thor would usually finish his food first, and Sheba was always last. She seemed to take pleasure in eating slowly while the other dogs stared at her enviously. On one particular day when we weren't watching closely, Thor walked over to Sheba's food dish. She must have felt threatened for the first time and snapped out. All it took was one snap back from Thor and Sheba became the "beta." He put a little tooth hole in the top of her head, and it was over. Thor was the new "alpha" of the dog pack. We separated the food bowls from then on, but we probably didn't need to because Sheba never seemed interested in challenging him again. September 20 was another unusually cold day. Late that evening, Dan was working on Thor's Porch, trying to close it in before winter. I went to bed with Kirby and lay there shivering--and called Thor up on the bed with me. He seemed ecstatic to be in his "rightful" place! By the time Dan got to bed we were all sound asleep. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" he muttered. I was so warm and drowsy I answered selfishly, "There's room for you in this corner of the bed behind me. Can't Thor stay here tonight?" Dan grumbled and squeezed into bed. Thor must have thought he died and went to heaven that night. He had finally made the big time, sleeping on the bed with mom and dad, just like Kirby the Prima Dona. Thor was finally, undeniably HOME. The next morning, we had to get up early and trailer our horses to a Sunday trail ride with our saddle club. We got dressed, made our potluck dish, fed the dogs, and got ready to leave. As I was brushing my teeth, Thor finished his food first and started to walk into the pantry where we fed the other dogs. In order to prevent any skirmishes, Danny sternly said "No, Thor!" and went to grab his collar. What happened next was one of the most heartbreaking and violently horrible sights I have ever witnessed. Words can't even begin to explain it. Thor fell to the floor yelping, frantically jerking his neck around in convulsions as his legs thrashed in every direction. I ran out of the bathroom and shrieked, "What happened?" Dan, looking horrified and confused, answered, "I don't know! I just went to grab his collar, and he flinched and fell down!" We both stood there hopelessly as Thor spun around in agony and lost control of his anal glands and bladder. He stared up at us with terror in his eyes, almost as if to say, "I promise to be good if you just make it stop." The other dogs paced around and whined nervously as he yelped and thrashed. The episode seemed to last forever, but probably only lasted a few minutes. It is a very frightening situation to have a 130-pound animal convulsing on your kitchen floor. When Thor's movements started to slow down, Dan knelt beside him and cradled his head, trying to soothe him. Thor lay there trembling, with one back leg stretched out straight and the other one contorted in a stiff, curled-up position. I grabbed some paper towels and Lysol to clean up the mess, and immediately called the vet. Of course, he was on call for the weekend, so his wife had to page him. When he got back to us a few minutes later, Thor had already had several briefer episodes, and while I was tearfully explaining the situation, he started having spasms again. The vet said Thor was probably having a seizure. He asked if he could have gotten into any poisons. I couldn't see how, since he had slept on the bed all night and had only gone out for about three minutes to urinate. Once we eliminated the poisoning option, the vet said that seizures could be caused by many things and weren't all that uncommon. If they occurred frequently Thor could be epileptic, but there were anti-seizure drugs we could give him. He said Thor would be weak but should be recovered within half an hour, and if not, to call him back. After an hour of sitting by him and petting him, Thor's body was still trembling all over. Every time he tried to get up he would start to spasm and cry again. We called our club and said we couldn't make it to the ride and I called the vet back. He said Thor was probably still weak from the seizures or else he injured himself during one of the episodes, and that we should just move him to the barn and go on our ride. If he wasn't better when we got home, then we could bring him in. We had our doubts and felt pretty guilty about it, but we decided to try to move him to the barn using a blanket as a gurney. Thor immediately started yelping and convulsing again. We got maybe five steps and were so horrified that we had to set him down. "We can't leave him like this," Dan said. "These can't be seizures, they only happen when he moves. He's in pain!" I called my best friend from Michigan, who is now a veterinarian in Colorado, to get her opinion. She obviously couldn't diagnose Thor over the phone, but she sounded kind of worried. She recommended that if Thor went into convulsions again to take him in to the vet clinic. Just as I hung up the phone, he started again. This time I called the vet and said we had to bring him in. He wasn't real happy because the Packers and Vikings were playing "The Big Game" and it was only the first quarter, but he agreed to meet us at the clinic. We carefully moved Thor onto a piece of thick plywood left over from the construction and carried him to the truck. Great Danes definitely require special treatment and lots of muscle during emergency situations! Dan had to ride in the back to keep him calm. If he tried to leave him and ride in the cab, Thor would panic and start to thrash again. The vet may have thought we were overly paranoid parents at first, but one look at Thor made him realize just how serious his condition was. He made a preliminary examination in the truck and confirmed Dan's theory. These weren't ordinary seizures, they were reactions to extreme pain. We carried Thor in and he proceeded to take some X-rays of his neck and spine. He suspected it was a herniated disk, but could find no definite signs from the films. He asked us to try to stand him up. Thor's legs were useless and rubbery. He wouldn't even try to reach for the floor, his legs just crumbled under him. Stumped, he gave Thor a pain killer and a steroid shot to see if by some miracle it would help relieve the swelling wherever his spine was injured. Through all this, Thor never once tried to struggle or bite. The vet then recommended that we give Thor a few hours of peace and quiet at the clinic to see if his condition improved. We had little hope, but we had to give it a try. We were heartbroken and cried all the way home. That night, the vet called and said Thor hadn't improved. He had another attack when he attempted to get up. Basically, he was paralyzed. We decided to go in and get it over with, but the vet really wanted to wait overnight, just to be sure. He wanted his partner to take a look at Thor and the X-rays in the morning. We prepared ourselves for the worst and tried unsuccessfully to sleep that night. The next morning, we called in late for work and went to the clinic. Thor was in the same spot, breathing heavily, with a dazed look in his eyes. The vets looked him over carefully again and took a couple more X-rays. Thor looked almost human while they stretched him out on his back to get the correct angle for the films. In the end, it was all for nothing. Neither vet could find the exact problem. At this point, it didn't really matter to us. He was 130 pounds, paralyzed, and in extreme pain. Even if we were millionaires and could fly him to the University of Madison for more tests and possible surgery, I don't think we would have done it. I never want to see any living being suffer like that again. Nobody deserved that kind of agony, least of all our sweet Thor. We then made the hardest decision of our lives - to put Thor down. Even with all the animals we've shared our lives with, we never before had to make this awful decision. When the vet asked us if we wanted to stay in the room we both answered in unison, "Yes, definitely." We had decided the night before that we wanted to be there to comfort him and send our love along with him as he went. At the very least, he deserved that. While the vet went to prepare the shot, we both cried our good-byes to Thor. We kissed him and petted his face and apologized for not being able to do more. He stared back at us with a look of unfaltering trust and love that only a dog can give. He seemed to be waiting for us to fix everything. It was heartbreaking to let him down. If only we could be half as good as our dogs think we are! The vet returned with a giant syringe, pushed the needle into Thor's leg, and began dispensing the anesthesia. It probably went quickly, but time seemed to stand still, like a bad dream. If only it was. I watched as Thor took a breath and glanced at the half-filled syringe. Then my gaze became transfixed on his eyes. In my peripheral vision, I saw Thor's last breath. I watched as his eyes--the windows to his soul--turned into blank, lifeless spheres. We sobbed uncontrollably and stroked his face as we watched the last bit of light fade from his eyes. Then, although we already knew, the vet said "He's gone." "Now what do we do with him?" I heard myself ask, with a rush of deja vu. While we listened to our options, Thor's body gave one last involuntary shudder and he appeared to take a breath. We both jumped, even though we sort of expected it by the way the vet stood by and held his body long after the syringe was empty. This was almost more than my heart could bear. "We have to take him home and bury him," I said, looking to Dan for agreement. He nodded as I continued, "I don't want him discarded like a piece of trash again. I want him to be home forever." Between sobs, we loaded him into the truck and discussed possible burial places as we drove home. We decided to extend our black-eyed susan garden, and to bury him there. It was a cold, rainy night as Dan dug the grave, making a morbid and miserable job even worse. I'm sure our neighbors wondered what kind of illicit activities we were hiding as we dug a human-sized grave in the darkness. It probably looked even worse as we backed the truck up to the hole and deposited a human-sized body bag. Dan, the dogs, and I all said our last good-byes and threw flowers onto his still body before we covered our Thor up. Then we spread flower seeds over the loose dirt. When the burial was over and we returned to the house, it seemed hollow and empty. I turned to Dan: "There is a such a big void in our family now." Dan promptly answered, "No, there is a GIANT void in our family." We tried to go on with life as it was before Thor. But we missed him terribly! It is almost like losing a human being, when a 130-pound life form is suddenly gone from your house. One night, we woke up to the coyotes howling. I sobbed as I said, "If Thor was here he'd put them in their place." I would have given anything to hear his funny howl again. In the weeks to come, I found myself obsessed with Great Danes. Every day at lunch and after work I would surf the Net for information on Danes. One thing I found out--most Great Dane owners are as loyal and loving toward their dogs as their dogs are to them. There are so many fun and interesting Web sites on Danes! I found pictures and stories about Dane antics, Great Dane computer art and virtual postcards, tributes to Danes that had passed on, information on breeders, to mention only a few. Each page fueled my interest and made me miss Thor even more. One page in particular caught my eye: a Great Dane Rescue program Web site. I jotted down the contact numbers for Wisconsin and thought to myself, "I must be crazy! Why can't I let sleeping dogs lie (literally)?" I considered our busy holiday and business travel schedule coming up, and threw the phone numbers away. If I still was miserable after Christmas we could look into it. It wouldn't be fair to subject a new dog to the stress of traveling. For two months we tried to get over the loss of Thor. But each day we missed him more. After our whirlwind Thanksgiving trip around Michigan and our two business trips, I decided to look into rescuing a Great Dane. The Great Dane Rescue group for Wisconsin turned out to be three dedicated individuals who pick up unwanted Danes, get them spayed/neutered if necessary, and hold them at their kennels until they find a good home for them. For some reason, they had more Danes this fall than they usually get in a year, and there were five dogs available that week. That was all we needed to hear. We changed our Christmas plans and decided to stay home. On December 13 we drove the three-hour trip to Madison to check out the Danes. There were two females and three males at the shelter. We really wanted another male, but decided to look at all the possibilities as long as they got along well with Kirby. By the time we arrived, one of the females had already been adopted. As we walked into the kennel, the first dog we saw almost took our breath away. She was a merle named Princess and looked so much like Thor it was spooky. She was an older dog and had bad hips. The young male named Harley was all white and deaf, an unfortunate birth defect often encountered when breeding for the harlequin color. Both these dogs were very sweet but not what we had in mind, so we focused on the two older males. We wanted a Dane that at least had a chance of living a few healthy years. The two other males were both black. Not my favorite coat color, but as long as they were nice and got along with Kirby, it really didn't matter. The first one was named Sado. He had two white feet and a white patch on his chest. The second one was all black and was named Zeus. They were both about three or four years old, tall and so emaciated that they looked almost like skinny greyhounds with huge, disproportionate heads. Both dogs were let into the big dog run for us to get acquainted. They were excited to be out and to get our attention. They wagged their tails and twirled around us, but never tried to jump up or hurt us. Suddenly, I was aware of blood flying around and getting all over us. The kennel owner informed us that Zeus had been wagging his tail so hard into the chain links of the kennel that he had broken the end of his tail open! We held him for her as she wrapped it up. Because I knew how hard it was to heal an injured tail and both dogs were equally friendly, I started leaning toward adopting Sado. But the most important test was next, introducing them to Kirby. As I walked
out to the car to get Kirby, both dogs stood up with
their front paws on top of the six-foot wooden fence and
watched me longingly. Upon our return, both seemed to
accept Kirby as another canine friend instead of lunch,
and things looked promising. We watched all three
interact for a while. Both Danes were so sweet and good
that it was heartbreaking to have to choose. We even
jokingly considered taking them both! But as we agonized
over the options, we started noticing some differences
between them. Sado was still friendly but seemed more
interested in playing with Kirby than in us, while Zeus
was like a sponge soaking in every bit of human attention
he could get. We waffled back and forth and finally
decided on Zeus. His devotion to people and his
unwavering quest for love was something we couldn't leave
behind. We would just have to deal with the tail problem.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be 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 begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... - Author unknown Rest
in peace my Thor, your short life was not in vain. I hope
to meet you at Rainbow Bridge someday. Until then, we
will send our love to you through other needy Great
Danes. Once you go Dane, you never go back.
If
you are one of those people thinking, "Get over it,
it was only a dog!" You are right, of course, in all
rationality. I have even tried to convince myself of
this. However, I have come to believe that, in the end,
happiness in life is not necessarily based on how much we
are loved but on how much we love--and dogs are so easy
to love! Only when you can freely give love, are you able
to truly accept love. Dogs are like a mirror: whatever
love you give them, they give it right back. It is such a
nice, warm feeling to know that they are waiting at home
for me no matter how bad my day might have been at work.
I feel sorry for people who have never known this
feeling. |
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