My wife had Tobias from the time he was a baby. He fit in her hand as a puppy and by the time I met him, he was fully grown to a whopping 35 lbs.
As part of our dating and courtship, we took the dogs for walks and to the dog park. And very early on, I noticed some special qualities about Tobias.
Despite being one of the smaller dogs there, he worked the park like Bill Clinton working a room. All the other dogs loved him. He had a huge grin on his face any time he socialized with other animals. He held his chin high and walked with his chest out. He was abundantly confident. He was happy. He was above anything petty. No other dogs ever tried to hurt him, because despite his small stature, his confidence could be felt and smelled by the other dogs.
One day five about five years ago, we took the dogs to Petco to buy various provisions. While there, one of the store employees approached us and asked if Tobias could be a therapy dog. She recognized in his disposition a fundamental ability to provide joy and comfort. Sadly, one of the qualities required for a therapy dog is the ability to resist food, a quality which our little puggle lacked. But his good nature and aura were universally understood and appreciated.
Each trip to the dog park revealed the consistency of his character. He would go around to the other dogs, rally them together, and within a few minutes create a game of doggy "tag". Quickly, the other dogs would chase him around the park, and he would run around frantically with a huge smile on his face. And he was tough to catch.
One day, I started a game of tag with him in our building's underground garage. At one point, I chased him toward a car that was parked in a carport. He ran around the left side of the car, and I knew he had nowhere to go other than the right side of the car. I headed him off as he came around the corner and I grabbed him into my arms. I caught him! It was the first and only time I did. There in my arms, he was panted and smiled, both of us knowing that I finally won a round. I laughed, and he smiled. And it was great.
Once Samantha and I started having children, Tobias became even more central to our lives. Our kids loved him, and he was good to them and so much fun. Our weekends involved trips to the dog park, to lakes, to weekend trips around California, Runyon Canyon, and more. Tobias would go swimming in the lakes with us, and he always had the best time going on adventures with us.
About three years ago, something changed. We noticed Tobias was in a lot of pain, and we saw that his toenails had erupted. It's a strange word to use, erupted, but it's the truth. They didn't fall off. They didn't fracture. They...exploded, revealing his sensitive nerves and causing him tremendous pain.
We took him to our normal Veterinary clinic, and they didn't know what it was. So, I spent some time reading on the internet, and thankfully found several posts about SLO, an auto-immune disease that can cause these symptoms. We took him to a specialist/dermatologist, the amazing Dr. Werner in Studio City, and began giving him a cocktail of meds and vitamins. And within a short time, his nails grew back.With his nails returning, so too did his smile. We were absolutely thrilled to bring him back from the darkness of pain to the lightness of his normal disposition.
Everything was good, until a year ago when the next challenge arose. My wife, who is incredibly intuitive, again noticed something off with our little puggle. We took him to our regular vet again, and they found a mass in his abdomen. However, their X-Ray machine was not enough to discern what the mass was. We took him across town to a different clinic, where they again found a mass on his spleen.
The doctor came into our room and told us the news. Without a biopsy, she said, we could not tell whether it was cancerous, but they could tell that the mass was causing some internal bleeding. Without surgery, he would bleed out internally and die within the week.
Although we did not know whether the mass was cancerous and/or metastatic, the choice was obvious: remove the spleen and hope for the best.
Well, we were blessed. Once his spleen was removed, Tobias was back to normal! Energetic, if not as sprightly as in his youth. A few days later we received a call from the hospital: the mass was not cancerous.
For the last year, we felt great. Although the surgery was very costly, we got our puggle back and it was worth every penny.
That lasted until December of 2017, not even two months ago at this writing, when he started not feeling well again. This time, we noticed his skin had lesions. He would lick them constantly to assuage the itching, and so would Simon. It was very sweet to watch Simon take care of him. But the lesions kept getting worse. We took him back to Dr Werner, and every few days we'd take him for progress reports. Some days were better than others, but the overall trend was downward. What we thought were surface lesions began expressing themselves in other ways. Tobias stopped barking, and the doctor noticed ulcers in his mouth. We used special mouthwash to treat the ulcers, and it worked, but every day a new problem seemed to pop up.
Between the pain and the medication, Tobias was not himself. I was carrying him up and down our stairs. Normally, if I ever carried him to our bed, Tobias would wriggle out of my arms to situate himself as he saw fit. But Sunday night, I carried him to our bed, and he didn't try to get out of my arms. He was just...still. I laid him down on our bed, and he did not move from the spot where I put him. I turned to my wife and said, "Sam...this isn't the same dog. He's suffering. He's suffering too much."
Monday morning, two days ago, we brought Tobias back to Dr. Werner. We brought Simon with us, and the three of us were told that the options were either palliative care, or putting him to sleep. We knew this already. We were there to say goodbye. Dr. Werner did not object, and a few minutes later, Tobias was put to sleep.
I lifted Simon to see Tobias on the table, and Simon did not lick him. He knew that Tobias was gone, no longer in need of his loving licks and kisses. And then, after months and years of holding it together, I no longer could. I broke down, hysterically crying at the site of his lifeless body.
For the past two days, life has seemed eerily unfamiliar. I don't know my wife without Tobias. I don't know my house without coming home to his loving welcome. Everything is different.
Tobias, our darling puggle--you were our first child. You, as much as anything, helped me fall in love with Samantha, because I knew that the mother that nurtured you would be good for my children. And I was right. She is. And I have you to thank. My kids are as I envisioned-confident, happy, and full of love. Just like you.
We miss you so much already Tobias. You will be in our hearts, forever.
