Another sad farewell to our gentle giant, Ben.
Posted: Mon Sep 04, 2017 4:06 pm
Some of you remember my big, goofy, harlequin Great Dane, Ben, who I got in January 2010 as a 3-mo-old puppy. He was meant to be a show dog but he developed conformation issues as he grew that cut short his show career. I had never shown dogs in conformation before so it wasn't a big deal.
He became such an important, loved, and fantastic companion dog and he touched many people's lives. In 2012 or 2013, he became a certified therapy dog and brought a breath of fresh air to the lives of many, many hospitalized patients who were otherwise having a bad day. He was so tall that he could easily put his big, lovable mug right in their laps even when they were still in their hospital beds. He became a favorite visitor during his years there. He also brought some joy to a good friend's last few dying days when he was confined to hospital and missing the life he led with his agility dogs. Ben visited him two or three times before he died. He did the same for another friend who was in pain and nauseated and awaiting surgery for a badly broken shoulder ... and another neighbour who was dying of breast cancer. This photo shows him with a dialysis patient (he was written up in a story that ran in our local newspaper, and this was one of the photos from that story):
His most important role came in 2014 when I adopted my daughter, Kara, who was then just 7 yrs old and had been through three foster homes before landing with me. When she came to visit me with her foster family in the very early days (before she knew I was a potential adoptive mom), she met Ben and loved him as well as my other dogs & farm animals. But Ben really stuck out for her, to the point that on her way out the door at the end of the visit, she said to her foster dad, "I hope that I have a dog like Ben when I get adopted." It squeezed my heart so much that I almost burst into happy tears knowing that Ben WOULD be her dog (and she moved in with me and Ben two weeks after that visit). Ben became the dog that Kara snuggled with the most. They shared so many tender, close moments, words couldn't describe what they had together. He was her confidant, her rock, and one of the many factors that helped her find "home" when she moved in with me.
He was 35.5" at the shoulder, 155 lbs, and a heart of pure gold. Gentle as the day is long, wise beyond his years, and yet also a big, huge goofus with record-breaking loogies that I'd find stuck to the walls, and even to the ceiling.
In the last several months, he'd been steadily weakening in his hind end, and I knew it would eventually catch up with him. Yesterday, we let them out for a potty break before heading in to watch a movie, and he fell hard and couldn't get back up. I gave him time, a massage, put a sling on him and (with great difficulty due to his size) got him up, but he had NO control of his right hind, and his left hind was better but quite weak. He simply couldn't stand or get up on his own. We took him in to the emerg clinic because I wanted an objective opinion (I'm a lousy vet to my own animals), but she agreed with me. If he was smaller, I'd have considered a doggy wheelchair, but his size and his inability to get up at all made the decision clear.
We said a tearful farewell to him yesterday evening. The hole in our house, our lives, and our hearts is enormous. RIP, sweet Ben.
He became such an important, loved, and fantastic companion dog and he touched many people's lives. In 2012 or 2013, he became a certified therapy dog and brought a breath of fresh air to the lives of many, many hospitalized patients who were otherwise having a bad day. He was so tall that he could easily put his big, lovable mug right in their laps even when they were still in their hospital beds. He became a favorite visitor during his years there. He also brought some joy to a good friend's last few dying days when he was confined to hospital and missing the life he led with his agility dogs. Ben visited him two or three times before he died. He did the same for another friend who was in pain and nauseated and awaiting surgery for a badly broken shoulder ... and another neighbour who was dying of breast cancer. This photo shows him with a dialysis patient (he was written up in a story that ran in our local newspaper, and this was one of the photos from that story):
His most important role came in 2014 when I adopted my daughter, Kara, who was then just 7 yrs old and had been through three foster homes before landing with me. When she came to visit me with her foster family in the very early days (before she knew I was a potential adoptive mom), she met Ben and loved him as well as my other dogs & farm animals. But Ben really stuck out for her, to the point that on her way out the door at the end of the visit, she said to her foster dad, "I hope that I have a dog like Ben when I get adopted." It squeezed my heart so much that I almost burst into happy tears knowing that Ben WOULD be her dog (and she moved in with me and Ben two weeks after that visit). Ben became the dog that Kara snuggled with the most. They shared so many tender, close moments, words couldn't describe what they had together. He was her confidant, her rock, and one of the many factors that helped her find "home" when she moved in with me.
He was 35.5" at the shoulder, 155 lbs, and a heart of pure gold. Gentle as the day is long, wise beyond his years, and yet also a big, huge goofus with record-breaking loogies that I'd find stuck to the walls, and even to the ceiling.
In the last several months, he'd been steadily weakening in his hind end, and I knew it would eventually catch up with him. Yesterday, we let them out for a potty break before heading in to watch a movie, and he fell hard and couldn't get back up. I gave him time, a massage, put a sling on him and (with great difficulty due to his size) got him up, but he had NO control of his right hind, and his left hind was better but quite weak. He simply couldn't stand or get up on his own. We took him in to the emerg clinic because I wanted an objective opinion (I'm a lousy vet to my own animals), but she agreed with me. If he was smaller, I'd have considered a doggy wheelchair, but his size and his inability to get up at all made the decision clear.
We said a tearful farewell to him yesterday evening. The hole in our house, our lives, and our hearts is enormous. RIP, sweet Ben.