Shadow was born in May 1996.  His mom was a sleek, slender black lab named Ebony.  Shadow’s dad was supposed to be the large yellow lab who also lived on the premises.  However, the neighbor dog had some plans of his own, and Ebony gave birth to a litter sired by the mutt next door.  I got to pick Shadow out a handful of weeks after he was born, and then at about 6 weeks I brought him home.  He whined all the way home, and continued to whine most of his life.

Shadow was my first dog.  Although I got him shortly before my actual birthday, he was my 20th birthday present.  We had a German Shepherd-Collie Mix, Major, growing up, but he was Nathan’s dog, and being an outdoor dog he didn’t get as well integrated into the family as Shadow did.  I had a cat, Sunshine, when I was very young, but Sunshine got out and was hit by a car while he was still a kitten.  Shadow has been a part of my life for nearly 13 years.

Although Shadow was a whiner (he whined when he wanted attention, he whined to go out, he whined to come in, he whined when he was excited, he whined when he was scared, he whined every inning when I was in the field the one time I took him with me to a softball game), he was a wonderful dog and a great companion.  Shadow was a definite people-dog.  Around other dogs, Shadow was timid and nervous.  He would shy away from dogs 1/4 his size.  But when anyone came to the house, Shadow was certain they were there to see him.  He won the affection of even the non-dog lovers with his sweet personality.  He loved to play tug-of-war, and would tire out anyone willing to take him on.

Shadow also loved to go for rides, and he loved to swim.   My first car was perfect for him, because he was able to put his front paws on the center console and stick his head out the sunroof, taking in the world everywhere we went.  The very first time I introduced him to water, he wasn’t too sure about it.  However, once I led him into the water to the point where his feet were no longer touching the bottom, he realized that he could float, and off he went.  From then on, any time we went to the park he would start his whining as soon as we got into the park.  One time I made the mistake of leaving my window down and Shadow jumped over me out the driver’s side window before I even got a chance to park the car.  Last year Carrie and I took Shadow to the Indiana Dunes for the first time, and he got his first taste of Lake Michigan.  As soon as he saw the water he was carrying on and straining at the leash to get in.  His hips were already getting pretty bad from arthritis, and the waves would knock him down.  However, he would get right back up and run out into the water again.  He was bone tired the next two days, but he loved it.

By about age 10, Shadow was getting arthritis in his hips and starting to have trouble getting up.  Supplements and eventually a prescription anti-inflammatory helped quite a bit, but in the last few months his legs continued to get worse, and he was showing signs of problems in other areas of his body as well.  His behavior starting changing too.  Most of it, we just chalked up to growing old.  A few weeks ago, he lost interest in his food.  When he wouldn’t eat some of his past favorites like canned dog food, peanut butter, cottage cheese, etc., we knew something was wrong.  The vet noticed a yellow tinge to the whites of his eyes and suspected liver failure.  An ultra-sound showed what appeared to be two large tumors, one in his spleen and one in his liver.  That was eight days ago, Monday March 2.

In the past week, Carrie and I have been preparing ourselves for his approaching death, not knowing whether it would be days, weeks, or months.  However, Shadow got worse each day, not eating, rarely getting up, struggling to walk, throwing up, and not being able to eliminate normally.  We hoped that God would end his life naturally, sparing us the tough decision of putting him to sleep.  However, there was nothing wrong with Shadow’s heart, head, or lungs; his heart kept right on ticking, and he kept right on breathing.  By last night, it was finally clear to us that we couldn’t keep asking Shadow to lay around in pain, slowly starving, and struggling with the now very difficult task of getting in and out of the house.  We prayed earnestly that God would allow Shadow to take his last breath that night, but God must have thought it better that we were with Shadow when that happened, rather than waking to find him dead.  It was a tough phone call to the vet this morning, albeit a short one.  I took the afternoon off work so both Carrie and I could spend Shadow’s last few hours with him.  The vet and staff were kind, the injection painless, and the effect swift.

Carrie and I are sad to see Shadow go, and we will miss him greatly.  We know he made many friends throughout his life who will also miss him.  However, we are grateful for the immense joy that he brought to our lives, and we are relieved that he is no longer suffering through a slow, painful demise.