Sometime around 2 yesterday, perhaps the greatest dog I could ever hope to be the master of was put to rest. I’d lie if I said the decision was tough, it really wasn’t. But it was none-the-less extremely difficult. By this I mean I had to make an ethical decision on whether or not chasing a potential ghost of medical problems could be justified given the medical costs involved. This is a touchy subject for many people but in the end, the looming reality of having to spend at least another $2,000 to just try and figure out what was wrong with Caesar could not be justified.
So on that, let me just say I could have been a better master, much like any of us could be better in the things we do. We will always go through life asking ourselves those "what ifs" and have to live with the clouds they create over us. I thought today would be tough having to look at Caesar’s empty crate but it actually wasn’t. I find peace knowing he is no longer in pain and that he brought joy to everyone he met, even in his last days. One thing is for certain, even given his tendency to dig a few holes, bark late night at rabbits, and pull off his amazing escapes from the back yard at 3 in the morning, he could not have possibly been a better dog.
I really wanted Caesar to be able to enjoy the country life much longer than he did. Seeing him run the fields, dig up mice, and contemplate the run down of passing deer, brought back countless memories of our previous dog King. While some people tend to believe their dogs are meant to be inside lap layers, I am of old school where I want them to be mostly outside, running the fields, drawing on the primitive instinct they all have ingrained in them. Don’t get me wrong, in the recent years Caesar loved his warm crate, but he was just as fast to jump into a freezing cold creek for fun.
It was a painful last month for Caesar and in the end, our choice was necessary. I’m glad everyone but Amy and I will remember Caesar as the great white beast he was and not the condition of which he passed. I recall the waning days of our original Sheppard, suffering horrible with hip problems. Even though the pain was intense, his eyes and heart said “I’ll keep going.” Looking into Caesars eyes this last week told an entirely different story. They were sad eyes, those of a broken spirit, suffering incredible pain. Every time I looked at him they were begging for me to end the pain somehow. Today I am carrying that pain for him. I know it will pass and the heartache I have today is likely nothing to that he lived with in his last weeks.
I’ll miss you ol’ boy and thank you for the memories. 
