We euthanized Gus last night.
In the past few days his decline was so steady and evident we realized we were morally obliged, as his stewards, to ease his suffering, and ours. We had run out of possibilities for treatment, or reason for hope. We were exhausted.
Gus was a valiant little Guy – I came to think of him as the Little King – he was loving and lively to the end, he did not ever succumb to the dread disease that was eating away at him. His spirit was very strong. It never left him.
Perhaps that was what was so difficult about this decision.
I celebrate his life, rather than mourn his loss. I feel so much gratitude at spending much of this past year with him.
It is easy enough to say Gus died too young, but that seems facile to me. Death is death, and life does not ask us when the things we love should die.
I respect life, and I accept it. Every dog is a gift to me, not a misery.
The poet Mary Oliver wrote of her dog’s death: “And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old – or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.”
We did keep him young in that way.
In one sense, it seemed fitting that Gus died young, we will always remember him as a puppy who acted like an adorable dinosaur in charge of everything in the world. He was a little squirt with a big ego.
It wasn’t so much that the food was trapped in his esophagus – we had figured out how to get it moving through, but over the past week it became clear that he was not absorbing his food, and despite feeding him nearly two cans of high-calorie wet dog food a day, he was losing weight steadily, looking progressively thinner and older. The disease had advanced, he was coughing up bile.
Yesterday afternoon, Maria and I sat on the couch and Gus jumped into our lap, showered us both with kisses, and vomited all over us and the sofa and the floor. Even on the worst days – and there were many – Gus had fun and made us smile. I am proud of the fact that neither of us ever lost patience with him, or scolded him, or made him feel like we felt anything but love for him.
A life lesson in patience. I will not forget it.
In a strange sense, our last time together was a beautiful an appropriate farewell. That was it, right there.
In the way of dogs, he was sending us a message. Gus died on the vet’s table with his head on Maria’s wrist and my hand under his head. It was very quick and painless. We arranged to have his body frozen and we will bury him in one of the gardens at Bedlam Farm when the Spring thaw finally comes.
He belongs here.
We did our crying and much of our grieving over the weekend. Gus’s illness had come to dominate our lives, there was sadness but also relief. It had taken up too much space, we live creative lives and we forget that at our peril. We don’t get paychecks every week, we have to work every day and stay focused to keep our lives. We must always protect them.
A very good and caring person wrote that this must be a horrible time for me, but that is not so.
It is a wonderful time for me, my life is rich and full of love and meaning and work and creativity. Gus only enhanced my life, he took nothing from it. Death is a part of life. Maria often said “you love that dog so much!” She was right. Is that anything but a gift?
The photo above is the last photo I took of Gus. He had just commandeered my favorite chair, as he did often. He was, after all, the Little King, everything was his. It shows his fatigue, he seemed to age years in just a few days. He was starving to death right in front of us. His eyes tell a lot.
When I wrote the book “Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die,” I remember interviewing a little girl who had lost a beloved chicken who followed her to school every morning. Her mother asked her if she was all right.
Yes, said the little girl, I’ll miss her, but now I get to love another chicken all over again. She spoke my mind. Another thing dogs give us that people can’t. We can go out and get another one.
Gus’s illness cemented our love for him. And I learned so much about dogs and nutrition. For one arrogant moment, I thought i had turned it around. Maria and I never felt closer than when we left the vet and wrapped ourselves around one another out in the parking lot and held tight and cried. We are so grateful for each other.
I thought of getting a Boston Terrier as something of an experiment at first, an intellectual exercise – I wanted to learn about small dogs and write about them – but it grew well beyond that. Gus slipped right into our lives, every person and animal in our house adored him.
I love the breed and the experience. I will always love border collies and live with them, but Gus added so much to our lives and to my understanding of the small dog, and how different it really is. Gus taught me a lot, another thing for which I am grateful. Small dogs are a part of my life now. My work is not finished.
Gus made us smile many times a day, every day. I called him the Little King because he seemed to think he was running the farm, supervising Fate and Red, and using me as a seat cushion and play toy.
When he could, he loved to ride around in the car, chase Fate and steal her toys, go into the pasture, cuddle up, sleep between us in bed, mind everyone’s business, sit in Maria’s studio, and lie on the couch in my study when I was writing. He occupied every space there was.
Dogs are one of the joys of my life. For years, people have asked me how to deal with grieving over their dogs, and I always told them the same thing: get another dog as soon as you are ready.
And I mean it.
People who love dogs should have dogs, so many are in need of good homes. Nothing makes me sadder than when people say the loss of their dog hurt them so much they will never get another. I will not spend years grieving and marking calendars to commemorate Gus’s loss. That is not what Gus is about for me.
There are so many dogs in the world, bred and mutt and rescue and shelter – that need homes. I have leaned to do the things that make me feel good and bring me nourishment and love. And why not?
I won’t be phony, I won’t pretend to be too grief-stricken to think about it. And if he could think like people and speak in our language, I have no doubt Gus would tell me to go for it.
He was a good time dog. Some dogs are all about work. Some are all about love. Some are all about fun. Gus has the last two covered.
I intend to get another dog as soon as soon as we gather ourselves and do some mourning, and as soon as I get the first e-mail telling me there is only one way to get a dog, which should come seconds after I put this post up on the blog.
Healing takes some time, it is different for each person.
As a steward of my dogs, I believe I did right by Gus. I worked hard to heal him, and failing that, I ended his suffering.
Karla wrote me this morning, she said the Universe can operate only because of opposition – negative magnetic pull to positive magnetic pull, light and dark, loud and quiet, water and fire.
I very much believe that.
We are all asked to live in balance, there are no perfect lives, only lives fully and well lived. There are things much worse than death.
Gus’s breeder Robin Gibbons feels so badly about Gus’s disease and illness even as we and the vet assure her it had nothing to do with breeding or the line. She is a great breeder, loving and honest and dedicated to making dogs healthy and sound in temperament.
When she came over to see Gus over the weekend with her son Brian, I told her that I hoped she did breed again. Gus was a wonderful dog, and I told her I would be proud to buy another puppy from her and bring him or her home. She said that meant a lot to her.
Something about that idea is very healing to me, even spiritual, a circle of life. That is my vision.
Robin said she wasn’t sure if she wanted to breed again, she never wanted to lose another of her dogs. I hope she will breed again, life happens. If she doesn’t, I’ll start looking for another Boston Terrier from another breeder. I don’t care to look backwards at what I’ve lost, I’d rather live in the present and rejoice in what I have.
I told Gus as he lay dying that I wished him a great journey, and I imagined him taking over some other household somewhere and bringing laughter and love into it, as he did with us. I think that is his purpose. I want to pick up on this journey, caught so short. I have more to learn, and I want as much laughter and love as I can cram into my life.
I have no idea why Gus was chosen to die, and I will not waste much time on it.
It doesn’t really matter.
That is God’s work, not mine. My life is too precious to take too much time grieving for something I would rather celebrate.
I know some people will ask – they already are – how they can honor Gus – he wasn’t just my dog. No flowers, please :).
I would be happy if people who wished to honor Gus did so by sending a donation to the work we are doing with the Mansion residents and refugees. Small donations are very welcome – I sometimes tear up when I see those – “5 and $10 bills stuffed into envelopes from all over the country.
The work is my joy, there is so much to do. These people need so much.
I think that would be fitting for anyone who felt the urge. And every dollar and every good deed would make me smile and think of Gus.
No pressure. Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]..
I am grateful to the many good people who send good wishes and love during Gus’s illness. They helped a lot, we did not feel alone.
And to the avalanche of social media busybodies poised to tell me what I should have done or should do, I thank you too: you help me understand my truth and speak up for it.
Godspeed, Gus. You’ll be home soon.
Thank you for admitting some sense of relief. Those of us who have been caregivers for loved ones until they died recognize the emotion and too often felt guilty for allowing it. May you and Maria be well, happy, and peaceful.
Holding you, Maria, Gus, Fate, and Red in the light. Much sympathy on the passing of your dear little Gus.
I’m so sorry, John. Please accept my sincere condolences. I have followed Gus since you got him, as a Boston Terrier owner myself. They are amazing dogs, such clowns and full of life. Thank you for thinking of his best interests, and for doing as much as you could for him. Please consider allowing another Boston into your life in the future. Hugs to you and Maria.
Having had to make the same decision as you and Maria did with Gus, I share in your grief and your celebration of King Gus’s life. Something I always think about when it comes time to put one of my furry kids down is something our vet said to us a long time ago: “most people wait way too long to make the decision to euthanize a beloved pet.” I don’t know if this is true or not, but it’s made me more sensitive to my pets’ discomfort at the end of their lives. Wishing you and Maria peace and joy while you celebrate Gus’s short life.
I am sad that Gus is gone. I so enjoyed his adventures. I am glad that Gus is no longer struggling to stay. I thank you for being such a wonderful caregiver, owner,comapnion and friend to Gus. You and Maria made a very heart wrenching decision of what was best for your Gus. So glad you were able to share the adventures of Gus. Hope you have many more adventures with your dogs
So sorry about Gus. Such a big little dog. Thank you for these thoughts, and the courage it takes to share them. I recently had my reactive, deaf Aussie euthanized because her life had become so stressful for her (and me and my other dogs). Your accounting of Orson’s life had many parallels to hers. She can finally rest. A new foster dog just joined the pack, he is 9 years old so if right person comes forth to adopt him, he will go on to another home, but if that does not happen he can stay here forever. Good thoughts to you and Maria.
Jon, I am always so impressed by the stewardship you and Maria show for your animals. No matter how hard the decision, or serious the circumstance, you do what is right for the animal. Thank you both for sharing Gus on your blog. He brought me great joy and much laughter. I am sorry he is gone so soon.
Rest in peace Little King, you gave us all so much joy. We all know you only needed a moment to make your mark on all of our lives and that you did. You ruled the roost, you entertained the masses and your filled all of our hearts with joy. Rest in peace sweet Gus, your people will not forget you, they will honor your life and continue to thrive. Jon Katz and Maria, you did your best, I thank you for your final message about Gus. It’s never easy making the decision to release your sweet pet from this mortal realm, but you made it with the grace and poise we all hope to have when the time comes to do the same for our beloved pets. Our thoughts are with you. Give Fate and Red some pats from all of us, we know they are missing Gus too.
Mr. Katz, I am so sorry to learn of Gus’ passing. I enjoyed reading of his adventures and also his difficulties. Please accept my condolences.
I’ve read many of your books over the years and I don’t know anyone who knows more about dogs than you do. You have a unique perspective that makes me love dogs more. You and Maria are amazing and I know you did the right thing at the right time. One of our old dogs told me when it was time to go too. We are a Doxie family and we lost 2 at a young age. One was 9 and she was my soulmate dog. She enjoyed every minute of life that she had. You never forget them. Thanks for sharing your love story of dogs and people. Thinking of you both. Todays post was beautifully written.
You and Maria were the best stewards Gus could have had. You loved him, cared for his health and are left with memories of joy. Pictures and blogs about him always made me smile. Thank you for sharing his short but powerful journey.
Such a beautiful letter about the one and only Gus. Yes, it is the mystery of the unknown, of the unanswered Whys that make life so darn beautiful. Gus had his purpose, and lived it well. Thank you for sharing his life with all of us out here. His next journey begins…and we go on, all the better for knowing his own Love of Life, and sense of Fun.
When my first dog died, I took it very hard, so I made myself say every day that, despite the pain of losing him, “I would not have missed the joy of having him in my life for anything on God’s green earth.” And three weeks later, his breeder called to offer me another puppy, and I flew across the country to pick her up. And now she’s 12 and every day I tell her “I would not miss the joy of having you in my life for anything on God’s green earth.”
After reading todays post, I was sure you were on the verge of easing Gus’s distress. I’m sorry to know that it had to come to that not because I blame you but because I know how much you did for the little guy and how much joy he brought to your lives. I love the pictures of him taking on the sheep like he was a big tough herding dog. Bless you and Maria for everything you tried to do for him and for in the end doing the best thing you could.
I am proud to have had my head jumped on by Gus. He was joyful ness in motion. Thinking about him makes me smile still❤️
Thank you Jon, for your eloquence and candor. Sharing your thoughts and feelings helps all the rest of us put stewardship of our treasured companions in perspective each and every day. That is a gift that goes on and changes lives, both human and animal for the better. Through these life experiences we learn how to be better humans. Something we are all striving to do. Thank you and Maria for that gift, we are all the richer for it.
With love…
My deepest condolences on your loss of Gus
Now I know that my feeling that you were saying goodbye to Gus was spot on. Godspeed Gus, you were well loved and gave it back in spades. I will miss your face on the blog and the posts of your life on Bedlam Farm.
Grateful that you wrote out loud, your deep heart experience with Gus; his life, his death. I am forever changed for knowing it. Thank you
I absolutely must read your book on the deaths of our pets, Jon. You have given me so much of a newer, brighter perspective thru your posts about Gus. You’ve also opened my thinking to a Boston Terrier at some point in my life as well. Gus had quite a number of tasks accomplished so beautifully while spending such a short time on Earth! I honestly have a clear vision of him running wildly and biting bubbles with a very kingly smile right now!
My condolences, Jon and Maria. I’ll miss the little guy as you do. But, in addition, I extend my congratulations for your courage and empathy for doing what had to be done. His little ribs are seen in his latest pictures- he was starving, as you said. I am happy that you are considering another Boston. I am prejudiced as I am a life-long Boston lover. They are one of the sweetest, most loving, funniest, spirited, and smartest little beasts out there, as you know. I’m glad you were his stewards. I shed some tears for baby Gus, but understood the inevitable. Wherever his spirit is, I can imagine him sitting on a donkey, holding court over his world. Your memories keep him close. Fate will miss him too.
Thanks for his story. He deserves a book. 😉
Take care,
Mary Pierce
I have adopted your philosophy on getting another dog. I was reading your book The Dogs of Bedlam Farm when we had to euthanize our beloved PBGV, Henri. Your philosophy on letting go and then getting another dog as soon as you were ready inspired me to reach out to PBGV Rescue, put my name in the hat for another one, and behold, six weeks later we had another pup to love and be loved by. I share this with everyone who loses a pet, especially a dog. There are many out there needing and wanting a home. I hope another one finds you when you’re ready.
Of my dears, I am so sorry. It was wonderful to get to know the little long through both of you. Thank you
The little king. Like I said before — can’t type worth spit.
Thank you for your beautiful words. They are heartfelt and raw and real and they do make a difference.
Goodbye dear Gus, your cute little bat ears will be missed.
I think that it was wonderful that you were able to give Gus a last “free” day this past weekend. A day without the muzzle, free to run with the donkeys and eat whatever he wanted from the ground. That was a gift to his spirit.
Godspeed sweet Gus. So sorry John and Maria.
Pam Rossell
Gus came into all our lives with his fun and his love of life. He came for a reason; not only for you and Maria, but for all of us who smiled at his antics and loved him while he was here. Thank you both for sharing his short life with us. He was indeed a Little King.
You did right by the little dog from start to finish. May your grief be short and your joy in him long.
Thank you Jon for sharing the news with us. I have learned many lessons through your blog and this is one of the most important ones for me. To understand when it is time to let go. You have written about it many times over the years. I’m listening and you have helped me and hopefully others. You also say that dogs come in to your life with a purpose and it was very obvious to me as an outsider what he brought you and Maria. His work was done and that little guy did a fantastic job in a short amount of time.
I am so sorry Jon… Gus definitely was a trooper… I’ll bet he is busy chatting up Lenore and your other pups while telling them how great their Dad is…. ❤️Rebecca
Thank you for sharing with so much depth this news and experience and thank you for so eloquently preparing us for it over the last few days. I think we all knew it was coming (and still feel teary-eyed). There are many things you said in this post that stick, and one of them is this—“I am proud of the fact that neither of us ever lost patience with him, or scolded him, or made him feel like we felt anything but love for him.” This is something you definitely should feel proud of. I know he felt your love constantly. You both did a fabulous job. Thank you for sharing your lovely, albeit short, ride with the little king. Blessings to you and Maria.
I am sorry for your loss. I too had to lose a dear pet who was less than a year old due to an ailment that could not be reversed. It is very hard when they are so young and you think of all they years of joy they might have given you, but releasing them from their suffering is the best choice to make and I am glad you and Maria are strong enough to make that decision when needed. Gus will be missed, but his lessons will be remembered. Rest in peace Little King.
My deepest condolences Jon and Maria. Thank you for sharing Gus with us all.
Susan M
Godspeed, little one.
Godspeed Gus! You brightened my days!
My heart aches for you and yours… Losing a loved one hurts. I will miss reading about Gus’ life. I found your blog around the time he came to live with you, I am thankful for his small part he played in my life.
You both did the right thing by Gus, both in life and in death. Let no-one say otherwise.
God Bless you all
I’m so sorry for your loss, and at the same time glad that you and Maria had Gus in your lives. His life may have been short, but it was well-lived and he touched so many hearts. I truly believe he was a gift to you and Maria, and you two were a gift to him.
Thank you for letting those of us who cared about Gus know that he’s gone. And thanks for your wisdom about his death and your example of never giving up on life and love, painful as they sometimes are. When you and Maria are ready, hopefully another small dog will come to the farm to rule.
I was dreading this post today,I felt it was coming…I sensed that you were giving Gus all the things he loved in the last few days. I cried when I read this . Gus captured my heart. I got my rough Collie, the same time you got Gus, I learned so much from you about training etc. I am sad…I wish I was as evolved as you and Maria are..but I guess I have more to learn from you both. May your memories of sweet Gus be a blessing and a comfort to you and Maria.
RIP and Godspeed Little Man. You gave us all much joy during your time here. Hugs and warm caring thoughts to Jon & Maria.
Deepest sympathies….Like many others I followed closely the adventures of Gus.
His spirit will continue to live at Bedlam Farm.
You and Maria are the “ benchmark of stewardship”. I am a retired neonatalnurse and avid dog lover. You have honoured Gus’s life and his mission in his life. He brought you unconditional love, laughter and fun. I will miss his beautiful self and hope you fulfill your love of dogs by getting another. You both have so much love to share. Thinking of you at this time.
Anne
Thank you for sharing Gus’s life with us over the last several months. When he had his last day running free I sensed what was coming. I’m so sorry he’s gone, but his struggles are over. Rest easy in the knowledge that you did all you could.
Good-bye, sweet Gus.
Thank you so much for sharing Gus with us, he brought much joy and laughter. Sympathies to you and Maria.
You and Maria did right by The Little King. I love that you chose to give him a liberation weekend, and invited his best friends to visit. Thank you for sharing Gus’s life with us. ♥