January, 2011

On January 2nd, 2011 we made the heart wrenching decision to let our sweet Norwich Terrier, Divot go. 

Divot had begun to have idiopathic seizures in July of 2010 at the age of 12.  Though we tried a variety of anti-seizure medications and dosages, the seizures did not stop. 

Divot had begun to lose her sparkle recently and though we saw glimpses of her true self on occasion, she was becoming little more than a shell of her one vibrant self. We knew it was time to let her go when she had three major seizures in less than 24 hours.  Each seizure was more severe than the previous one, and her neurological functions did not return as in previous episodes.  Before the final seizure, the vet added that, while her eyes reacted to light stimulus, he didn't not believe that her brain was interpreting the information. 

Good-bye Sweet Divot

How could such a sweet, loving dog come to such a hideous end?  It was unfair and it was so cruel.

On the last day, even Nigel seemed to know that we were losing her.  We knew that Divot was very ill, but Nigel knew that his friend was dying.  Divot slept on my lap on the sofa all morning and while Nigel never had a reaction to her seizures before, that morning, he would not go near her.  He showed what appeared to be fear in her presence.  He did not want to be in the same room as her and he walked around with his ears and tail down.  He would return to the living room but would leave quickly, asking to go outside, and then did not want to come back in.  Anyone who knew them knew they were always together.  Within an hour of Nigel's peculiar behavior, Divot had her third major and final seizure.

We had always promised our dogs that we would not force them to stay in bodies that did not want to be here.  We promised them that we would honor them as the wonderful, proud creatures that they are and allow them to maintain a good quality of life along with their dignity.  There was no quality of life left for Divot in her final 24 hours, and rather than allow this precious dog to suffer any more, we said good-bye to her and let her go.  She fell asleep, finally peaceful on my lap and breathed her last breath, finally free of a body that had begun to betray her in such a horrible way.

Divot was my dear, sweet little friend, and she was more than I could have ever hoped for.  I am thankful that I was able to share a part of my life with her.  She was "one of the great ones" and will be missed and fondly remembered every day of my life. 

Ketka's Keleven Divot 7/22/98 – 1/2/11

©2019 by Barbara Huffman