Dead Dog

by Ray Rousseau from Aylesford, NS
Jan 25, 14

I live in the beautiful Annapolis Valley. Living in the country is great. We only have a few neighbours but the neighbours we do have all chip in to help each other out. 
This story is about two of those neighbours – Roger and France, and their Pomeranian dog Stormy.

Stormy had many wonderful years with his family, but he was getting old. He had lost his vision, his hearing and, sadly, most of his hair.  

France wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her dog. France’s husband Roger, on the other hand, felt it was time to put the pup out of his misery. Every time Roger and his wife went on vacation Roger would secretly hope that the dog would pass.  

One day I was in Roger’s garage talking about the dog. Easter was approaching and Roger was going away for the long weekend. I asked him then if he’d like me to have Stormy put down while they were away. 

Roger loved the idea. He knew it was time to put Stormy out of his misery and he knew France felt the same way, he also knew she didn’t have the heart to make the decision. 

Roger left Thursday at noon. I told my wife that I was heading over to their house to take Stormy out for a pee. When I got there I grabbed the dog and headed to the vet.

I showed up at the vet’s without an appointment and explained to them that I needed to put my dog down. 

They asked me a number of questions that I, thankfully, knew the answers to…and then they did an examination that confirmed that should be put down. 

When it was all done I took a deep breath and went back to the front to pay the bill. I gave them my name and address and money. And pretty soon I was out the door with the dead dog in hand.

I drove back and placed the dog back in its bed in his family’s home, then returned to my own home for supper with my family. 

After dinner, I told my wife that I was going over to Roger’s to let Stormy out.

I came back to our house and announced to my wife that the dog was gone.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “He must have passed away peacefully in his sleep. Just as France was hoping for.” 

I called Roger the next morning to announce the death of his dog and told him that I would bury Stormy.

I went outside, shovel and small wooden cross in hand and I closed this chapter in all of our lives. 

Or so I thought. 

The next week my wife receive a sympathy card in the mail from the vet’s office. It was signed by all the staff “We are so sorry about the loss of your dog Stormy.”

Wondering how they knew of Stormy’s death, my wife called the vet’s office. They told her that the dog had been put down at my request. 

To this day my wife will not allow me to look after our friend’s animals. 

Luckily, she was able to keep the secret from France. France and Roger now live on the west coast and, to my knowledge, France has never learned the full truth. 

Hopefully she doesn’t listen to the Vinyl Café.