We saw the add, “Small Samoyed Snowballs – 8 weeks old”, and we had to schedule an appointment. When we arrived, there were several puppies, all cute and cuddly, but one stood out from the rest. He was under the dining room table having a field day with his chew toy, not interested in the guests who have come to play with all his brothers and sisters. This was his opportunity to be independent. It was that independence that we were attracted to. We brought him home that day, resting on our shoulders for the entire drive home, and soon came up with his new name Digby.

Digby was a very smart dog. Potty training was easy, as well as basic commands like sitting, lay down, and “No”. However, he also would take instruction for tricks, such as “bang” or “get the bee” or “give a ride”. Anytime you would motion like you were going to shoot him, Digby would plop down on the ground and put his legs in the air. If a bee was in sight all you had to do is say “get the bee”, one chomp and it took its last flight. The bee might have felt safe while flying around five to six feet from the ground, but he wasn’t. Give a ride was something that thoroughly tickled us. By the time our daughter was two years old, she could get into her Little Tykes wagon and Digby would pull her around the yard, delicately and cautiously, for hours at a time. Digby knew that she was young and needed guidance and care. A trait he always displayed around her.

When he was four we noticed him having some medical issues and scheduled tests to narrow down the problem. We were told that he had a condition with his liver and most likely would not live past the age of 7. This news was very disheartening and we worked around giving him a better lifestyle, healthier food, and spoiling him rotten. Come to find the condition was a misdiagnosis and Digby made out like a bandit for nearly a decade until the unfortunate news of cancer.

Watching an animal suffer is something that is very difficult. They are your children and part of your family. The decision to put this family member to a peaceful state, without forcing him to endure any further pain, is something we, as a family, chose to do. The process was very sobering. The experience of petting our little “son” until his heart stopped beating was a powerful event, not without great depression, but one with sentiment nonetheless. In fact, it has been several years since his passing, and neither I nor my wife drive down the Vet’s street anymore, even though it is right in the neighborhood. I mentioned it to my wife recently, and she had noticed that I won’t drive by the Vet’s office, either. It’s kinda funny, but after posting this, I think I will go for a drive through the neighborhood.