Saying Goodbye To Mulder

It’s been a difficult few days since we had to put our beloved puppy boy Mulder to sleep. His lymphoma came very aggressively after chemotherapy put it into remission months ago.

Cancer is really vicious. It ravished our happy, playful, and muscular dog into one who had trouble breathing, getting up the stairs, and settling down to sleep. It was truly heartbreaking to see him deteriorate so quickly. But, Julie, Maya, and I vowed that we would not let him suffer from the cancer that bloated his spleen and made his lymph nodes swell. No, we agreed that his last day would be one where there was minimal discomfort — and I think we were able to give him that.

We put him to sleep on May 19th at around 4 pm. But before we let him go, Julie and Maya took the day off to spend with him, take him to Heather Farm Park where he could sniff to his heart’s delight, eat grass, and generally be in a place where it’s interesting to dogs — because there’s so much to smell.

He had a very good day. Lots of love — and lots of people food. He didn’t lack for anything — except comfort. Just looking at him in the 48 hours leading up to us saying goodbye, it was clear he wasn’t doing well. He kept a brave face, but he also had that look that seem to say, “I don’t feel well. Can you please help me feel better?” And that’s the thing with dogs, they rely on us for so much. We are their caretakers (just as they take care of us in many ways). And because we are the members of a dog’s pack who can lessen their suffering, we’re the ones who have to make the difficult choice about when to say goodbye.

What I can say is that while we were trying to hold it together for Mulder during his final hour (because he didn’t like it when we were upset), he was in good spirits. The vet had to take him down the hall to put a catheter in his arm so they could administer the injections that would put him to sleep, and he cheerfully went with her — because she had a liver treat in her hand.

When he came back into the room, they brought blueberry donuts and whipped cream for him to eat. He first checked with Julie with a look that seemed to say, “It’s okay that I eat this?” After it was clear that it was okay, he happily lapped it up until it was almost all gone.

We pet him as they gave him the first injection, which caused him to be really sleepy. It took about 30 seconds before he went into what Julie calls his “meatloaf” pose. He seemed very much at ease, which was a relief since he was so uncomfortable for the past couple of days.

Then they gave him the second shot, which stopped his heart. He was gone about 40 seconds after that, but he looked so peaceful like he was asleep. Many tears fell after he left us, but also a feeling that while letting him go was emotionally painful for us, it was the right thing to do for him.

For those who don’t know, Mulder was a rescue dog. Ours was the fourth home he lived in from the time he was born (he came to live with us when he was seven months). He lived with his litter mates and parents for a couple of months in the town of La Grange (which is in the foothills of California, and not the “Texas town” made famous by ZZ Top). Then he was adopted by a couple in the South Bay who named him Gojira (which is the Japanese name for Godzilla). He lived with them until he was about seven months when the couple put him up for sale on Craigslist. A rescue organization answered the ad and he went to live in a foster home while the rescue found a family for his “forever home.” While there, they called him Arlo (a name he never really answered to).

When we got to know him, he was a spaz. Wasn’t leash trained and just discombobulated at being uprooted from his home. We visited him three times to make sure he was a dog who would fit in with us, and it was that third time when his foster mom said: “I was looking at you playing in the backyard, and I could tell you were becoming a family.”

When we brought him home, he was barking like crazy (something he never really grew out of), but he seemed like he was somewhat okay with his new surroundings. It took him a few days, but he finally settled in and thus began our routine with the new addition to the family. We had to let him out to poop and pee, feed him, walk him, play with him, love him, and generally enjoy his presence. He was a really strong dog for his size. Often we’d have to wrap his leash around our waists when walking him because he would pull really hard on the leash — which gave me a bout of tendonitis for a time.

But as the years went on, Mulder mellowed a bit. No more pulling on his leash, but plenty of other buttheadery ensued — like always eating sticks, bark, and whatever else he could stick in his mouth during our walks. Most of the time he’d drop what was in his mouth if you caught him early enough, but other times…nope.

I’ll miss those times. I’ll miss playing rough with him, or making a hostage video like this one after one of my bike rides:

Or how much his squeaky toys used to make him almost feral.

But mostly, we just miss him. His presence. His playfulness. His unconditional love.