So long Tuco.

Jim just took Tuco to the vet to be executed. Poor old dog has been yelping at night and wandering around out in the cold. He doesn't get up to do his business any more and will pee all over himself. He's shivering non-stop. I moved the portable heater that I use on my feet into the library for him this morning but it didn't seem to do much for him. He hasn't been eating. I saw him get a drink but his stomach is bloated, according to Jim, and he's not passing much. Poor old dog. He can barely see, hears very little, and has a hard time getting around. He's been spending a lot of time down by the garden fence. The sun hits it and reflects the heat and the dogs and chickens go down there during the day to take advantage of the warmth. He was down there for hours yesterday, leaning back on it with his muzzle to the sun. Poor old dog. I got up at four something last night to spend time with him and settle him down. He was crying. He finally went to sleep and I wrapped him in his blanket. His breathing is very slow. Slower than mine. I really thought he would die last night. I finally went back to bed at 5:15 when it was apparent that he was asleep. Poor old dog. Jim took him in the big cat carrier on his favorite blanket. I pet his head and made much of him and told him goodbye and that I was sorry. It's a hard decision to make but I think I can safely say there is absolutely no quality of life left. I made Jim promise that he would pet his head while they were giving him the needle and to stay with him while he died. Hopefully Tuco won't be too afraid. I hated taking Bastet. She was afraid of the people, the other animals, the smell, the sounds. But she could no longer move around and was peeing on herself, too. For a few days I rolled her bed to the potty tray and she was able to drag herself in and out but eventually that proved too difficult for her. She missed Goliath too much and didn't want to live any more.
And so now Jim is going to go through what I did with her. I couldn't stand to go through it again. It's not an entirely peaceful way to go. So, Tuco will be buried in the back yard next to Chigliak. He'll be in a spot where his remains won't be disturbed. Jim and I got Tuco before we were married. He was a pound hound in Danville. Already an adult and now about fifteen years later he's finally giving out. Plagued with seizures and skin problems, it's a wonder he lasted this long. He would have been the world's worst hunting dog. I'd have to laugh every time I saw him "chasing" a squirrel. I'd see a squirrel go hippity hopping across the patio, say from left to right, and then Tuco would run through baying at the top of his lungs, going in the opposite direction. The dog couldn't catch a cold. He was loud and smelly but I'll still miss him.
Poor old dog. When I told Alex what was going to happen to Tuco today she said he's been mostly dead for years. She's right. I thought he was going to cash in his chips a long time ago.
Our neighbour Charlie will miss him. He always calls Tuco, old dog Jack.

Well, I guess I can't say too much more about Tuco. Named for Eli Wallach's character in the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Tuco Ramirez. Our Corgi is named after the Clint Eastwood role, Blondie. And now we have a mishmash terrier named after another Clint Eastwood character, Dirty Hairy Callahan. I wonder if the other dogs will miss Tuco or wonder where he's gone. They both knew he wasn't well. They never bothered him or tried to play with him. I guess they knew he wasn't interested in that stuff. They never tried to take away his food either. It was as if they respected him a little bit. I'd like to think so any way. Old dog Jack. Poor old dog.
That'll be it for dogs for awhile. No more animals. Even though Alvin, the cat from two doors down, is trying very hard to become a member of our family. Jim has drawn the line.
Goodbye Tuco.