I buried my dog Ibsen today. He died yesterday. I had the vet come to the house to euthanize him. They were an hour late. When the tech called, she said it was because of an emergency. I hope everything turned out alright for that emergency visit. It gave me another hour to spend with Ibsen, so that’s ok.

Ibsen came down cancer sick last Tuesday. He didn’t eat Tuesday morning. Tuesday night, I woke up in the middle of the night to his breathing. There was a rattle. I remember thinking to myself that it sounded like a deathwatch beetle. Wednesday night, his breathing was different, but I still woke up and thought of the deathwatch beetle.

I took him to the vet Friday morning. I had planned on taking him to the vet on Saturday to see about his lump, but fate had different plans in store.

I thought that maybe the reason why he wasn’t eating was because he had swallowed a bone shard. My roommates had bbq’d on Sunday, cooking pig and lamb — both verboten bones for the dogs — and I had caught Jasmine and Scotty with charred bone shards during the early part of the week.

I think it was December 1997 that Ibsen came into my life. I don’t remember the year exactly, but I remember the night as if it were yesterday. My friend Tim’s bitch had had puppies. There was one puppy, somewhat siberian-husky in appearance, that I had my eye on. It was a good looking puppy, but on the night that I went over to pick it up it wanted nothing to do with me. It was very skittish and shy. It kept on running away from me.

So I decided to sit on my haunches and wait. Within moments, there was this puppy, one I hadn’t even noticed before, playing with the laces on the leather jacket I was wearing. He picked me so I picked him.

I took him home that night. He was scared and missing his mother so I put him on my lap and stroked his head and down his back as we drove home. It was the most amazing feeling I’ve ever had. Here was this small, helpless creature and it was now up to me to make sure that he was happy, secure and loved. His welfare was in my hands. I could not let him down.

During the best moments of my life Ibsen was there. During the darkest moments of my life Ibsen was there. When I doubted it all, he was there. I knew he loved me and because of that I knew I was lovable. And I knew that I was capable of love because I loved him with all my being.

I wish I had taken more photos of him. I have a couple of pictures from early in his life, and I have a lot of pictures of his last few days. But I don’t have pictures of his life in between. Then again, those days were personal. Maybe they shouldn’t be shared…

So I took him to the vet on Friday, January 15, 2010 and they took all sorts of x-rays and blood tests. The blood tests showed basically normal, but his iron level was extremely low. Low for a dog is 34. His level was 14. The x-rays showed nothing in his stomach, but his lungs were peppered with black spots and his heart was abnormal. He hacked up blood while he was at the vet’s, which sent up warning signals.

The vet sent of the chest x-rays to an expert, who diagnosed cancer.

I thought we had more time, but Ibsen’s health continued to decline quickly. I knew by the 19th that he was dying, so the morning of the 20th I called the vet and scheduled them to come out to my room on the Friday the 22nd to put Ibsen to sleep. They were supposed to be there at 1 p.m. but an emergency came up and they didn’t come until 2 p.m.. I’m glad that I had that extra hour to spend with him.

It wasn’t as peaceful as I had hoped, but it was still better than taking him into the vet office. They had problems getting the catheter into his front leg. That caused Ibsen distress. They were able to get the catheter into his rear leg.

The first shot was of an anesthetic to put him to sleep. The second was off something that stopped his heart. All in all, it took less than a minute.

After a quick wake with my friends, I put Ibsen’s body in the jeep on his bed and took him out to my place in the country. He was bleeding from the mouth and I got blood on my sleeve. I also discovered on Saturday that there was blood all over my back seat where i had put his body.

I lit a candle and placed it in the window. I placed Ibsen’s body on the table on the front porch and wrapped a sheet around him and his bed. I then left him for the night.

Saturday morning I drove to the feed store to get a shovel. I couldn’t find mine. I think I left it in Dallas. It took me about 3 hours to dig the grave, although it seemed much longer than that.

At 11 am I placed Ibsen’s body in the grave. I left him 2 pennies, his toy and the shirt I was wearing. I said a few words, and by 11:30 I had filled the grave in.

It started to rain right after I finished burying him.

My boy, I’m going to miss you. I’ll see you on the far shore. i love you.