A week after Oliver turned 15, we took him to be with his maker. He had such a great time celebrating his birthday the week before on our quick trip to Kansas City. But when we got back, on Sunday, June 7, he started going downhill. He stopped eating, wouldn’t take his medication, and was having trouble standing. It was almost as though his little body said, “I made it to 15, and now I’m ready to rest.”
I had a conference scheduled Wednesday through Friday this week. Carrie took Oliver to the vet on June 10 so they could take a look at him. They gave him a steroid shot since he was coughing, having difficulty breathing, and struggling in just about every aspect of being a dog. I left that morning to drive to Emporia for the conference and told Carrie to keep me posted.
I was able to talk to Carrie around 1:00 on Wednesday. The vet told us his little body was failing. The steroid helped with the coughing, but with a collapsed trachea and an enlarged heart, it was clear that his time was near.
I’ll admit, I was naive. I thought we might have a few more months, continuing his medication three times a day and just enjoying having him with us a little longer. But his little body had other plans, and his decline happened quickly.
I can still remember when his cough first started. It really wasn’t that long ago, Martin Luther King Jr. weekend. That Sunday, he was playing in the family room, wrestling with a blanket, when he laid down for a minute. Suddenly, he got up and made a horrible sound. More of a yelp than a cough, really. But that became the cough we knew for the next four and a half months. Some days were worse than others, and there were nights when he, and us, were up most of the night as he struggled to breathe.
Someone mentioned to me last week that when they saw my post last week (see
Fifteen Years with Oliver), they thought it was about Oliver passing. At the time, I was glad to say no, he was still going and still causing problems. How quickly that changed. What I thought had become our normal of medication and coughing turned into a rapid decline and conversations about putting him down. It’s a very difficult decision when you are saying goodbye to a member of your family.
I want to share a few memories of Oliver over the years.
Some of my favorite names I would call Oliver... other than Oliver included Tappie Toes, Doofus, Handsome, Sweet Cheeks, Precious Pancake, Tee Tee Rodriguez, Handsome Pants, Fussy Britches, and I am sure many others....
One of my favorites is from when he was a puppy. We got him in September 2011, and he was born in June 2011, so this was probably October or November. We were chasing him through the house one evening, and he was flying through the living room at full speed. He wasn’t quite in control of his back end, and as he came through, it drifted to the side and he ran straight into the coffee table with his backside. He stopped immediately and looked at us like he couldn’t understand why we would have hit him. He might have yelped a little too. Poor guy.
Another favorite was our trip to Crystal Beach, Texas, in 2016, his first and only time seeing the ocean. He was so intrigued. He would run toward the water, then sprint away when the waves came in. Eventually he got into the water, but it took him a while. At one point, we decided to take him off his leash so he could really enjoy it. That turned out to be a mistake. He took off at full speed down the beach, running through people’s setups while they laughed and pointed. We eventually caught him and got the leash back on.
Mom shared a couple of great stories about when Oliver stayed with her. One time, she took him out back without a leash. He walked out into the yard, turning back to check on her every few steps, making sure everything was okay. Once he finished his business, he came straight back inside with her.
Another time, when Mom wasn’t feeling well, she went to bed early and Oliver stayed in the room with her. Normally, he would wake up around 6:00 a.m., head downstairs, and perch on the back of her chair to watch for people and dogs to bark at. But that morning, he stayed with her and didn’t leave until she was ready to get up. She just told me that story recently.
There was also the time he tried to get on her bed. Oliver is used to sleeping on the bed with us, so he naturally assumed the same rules applied. Mom told him no after he had already jumped up, and from her description, he seemed surprised and quickly got down. After that, he never tried it again.
Oliver had a special bond with my sister Dina. From the time he was a puppy all the way through adulthood, we could say her name and he would perk up. I think a big part of that was that Dina would pet him for as long as he wanted, which was basically forever. A few months ago, we were able to have Dina watch Oliver while we were out of town for the first and only time. I wish we could have done that more. I know they both enjoyed it. Even later in life, if we mentioned Dina or Grandma, he would start looking around, expecting them to walk through the door.
Brenda and Javier were also on his favorites list. Oliver would get excited when we said their names and try to figure out when he might see them again. Brenda had Patches, and the two of them were best friends. When they first met at our house, even through the glass, it was like they had known each other forever. From that point on, they were often together, going on little adventures or just resting near each other. Even after Patches passed, we could still say his name and Oliver would perk up.
Since he was a puppy, Oliver always wanted to be with us, no matter where we were in the house. He kept close tabs on us, moving from room to room to stay nearby. If we went into the bathroom and closed the door, he would paw at it until we let him in. Eventually, we just got used to leaving the door open.
At times, he would get a little too involved and climb into my underpants while I was trying to take care of business. More recently, he would just come in, lay down facing the door, and keep watch. I liked to think he was protecting me. It’s something I’m going to miss more than I expected.
I’m also going to miss the nightly routine of him herding us to bed. Around 10:00, he would start letting us know it was time. He wouldn’t usually go upstairs without us, but he would stand in the kitchen and look at us like we were the problem. On weekends, when we stayed up later, he would eventually come back into the family room and lie down, clearly unhappy with our choices.
And then there was the licking at night. He would lick my elbow, ears, and hand if I let him, and most of the time I did. He could go for hours before moving on to Carrie’s legs. I don’t know what he got out of it, but it was oddly relaxing, and I think it soothed him too as he settled in for the night.
Losing a pet is incredibly hard. This is the third one I’ve lost. The first was Captain when I was young, and I remember that pain clearly. Then Carrie brought Sidney into my life. I had never been much of a cat person, but Sidney won me over. When we had to say goodbye to him in June 2011, Carrie and I were a mess for a week.
Now here we are again. It’s Saturday as I write this, the day after we said goodbye to Oliver. Carrie and I are a mess. I still expect to hear his tappie toes while I’m watching Royals baseball. I expect to see him when I wake up. I expect to hear him scratching at the bathroom door. But none of that will happen now.
He’s gone, but we have so many memories and so many pictures.
He was a great friend and a loyal companion. I can’t believe he’s gone, but I know he’s in a better place, and he can breathe again.
I love you, Oliver Haverty. You were the best dog in the world, and we were so lucky to have you in our lives.
See all the photos I could find of Oliver on my Flickr page. There are quite a few, along with some videos as well. I know this is something I’ll come back to often as I remember my sweet Oliver.
Oliver Album on Flickr.
