Chandler was an amazing animal, and my dream dog. I had wanted another doberman for many years but it wasn't until I purchased a larger home with a large yard 10 years ago that my dream was realized. 2 days after moving in, I was at the doberman rescue to pick out my guy. I had wanted an adult red female; I came home, at the rescuer's suggestion, with a leggy 6-month-old black/rust male. And our love story started.
He was the perfect dog from day 1. He housebroke in just days. He learned the basics of obedience literally within hours. He adapted to his new name before we even got home with him.
My daughter, who was 9 at the time we got him, turned him into her cuddle buddy. When her JRA was in a flare and she couldn't get upstairs to her bedroom, he slept with her on the futon in the living room. He was her friend and her protector. He adopted my flock of parrots as his own, and never offered to harm their little feathered heads, but rather just turned his head away when they got too close.
There were 2 things that Chandler never liked: The wooden stairs at our home, and the vacuum cleaner. In the 6 years in that house, he never would use that stairway to get upstairs, no matter what we tried. And to the last week of his life, he would do ANYTHING to get away from a running vacuum cleaner.
He was totally devoted to his family, including relatives. He was an attention hound, and would do the "dober-lean" against anyone he thought might pet him. He was a quiet presence in our lives, always there for us, always aware, always within touching distance of one of us, always ready to play or to cuddle or anything else we had in mind.
As dobermans do, he had an amazingly expressive face and body language. Which is a good thing, because, before we got him, someone had done a real hack job on his tail, cutting through a vertebra instead of between them. That was a source of pain to him until we had it repaired, but the 2nd surgery didn't leave much tail for wagging.
His temperament was even and steady. He loved walking around our neighborhood and the parks of Lansing with me, and met new people without a blink. He was sweet and gentle with children, and other dogs were accepted as friends. He was as close to the perfect dog as I can imagine.
Channie started developing lumps all over his body over the last year. The vet said they weren't anything to worry about. Within the last few months, he looked like a bag of golf balls. He also started getting a little stiff in the mornings, then throughout the day. I gave him cheese with an aspirin in it, and that seemed to help for a while. But then he got more and more uncomfortable, and less and less able to move quickly. At the same time, he developed a lump on the side of his neck that quickly grew (unlike the others), and he started vomiting more. He'd always had a "funny tummy" but the vomiting became almost daily in the last week.
The last few weeks of his life, he hid under the dining room table or behind our bed. He got snappish with the 3 adults in our home, and I started to worry for the toddler. Many times, he wouldn't even get up to go outside with the other dogs.
When you know and love and connect so deeply with an animal, they tell you when it's time. Sure, I could have amassed a large debt in trying to buy him a few more weeks or months of life - but the time to say goodbye still would have come, maybe he would have gotten more comfortable, but not pain-free, and, frankly, he'd still be gone long before my debt would have been. Just for a few more weeks with him, just to put off the inevitable good-bye, just to keep him with me a little longer...but it still always comes down to this: when you know and love and connect so deeply with an animal, they tell you when it's time.
Chandler's time came the day before yesterday. My husband took him to the humane society, where they release beloved pets from their pain gently. As they sat in the waiting room, Channie got a shot to relax him. People petted him and told him how beautiful he was. Then my husband and Chandler were led to a room with a big window, where Pete sat on the floor and Channie lay next to him, his head on Pete's knee. Pete talked to him and to God, and caressed those lovely silky black ears as he got his final shot. And my beautiful, beloved, sweet Channie went to sleep...
I have always loved dobermans, and I will always love dobermans. But my husband and I, as we work our way through middle age with our own health issues, have agreed that we will stick with little dogs from now on. We have two minpins and an elderly yorkie/pom now. They are each loved in their own ways, none of them are Chandler, and they can't take his place. The little fuzzy dog, who has been with him his whole life, is lost without him and very sad...as are we...
Hope to see you on the other side, my Chan-man...
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