Loss of Shakespeare

In early 2011, a litter of a dozen or so mixed pit bull puppies was found in box next to a dumpster. The finder surrendered them to the Amarillo Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, which sent out a call for people to foster them until they were ready for adoption. My wife and I had recently lost another dog of ours named Jake and decided to lend a hand. We took home a girl and a boy and named them Lady and Shakespeare. We had no idea of the journey that awaited us. They soon came down with kennel cough and ringworm. When the SPCA suggested we bring them back, it was like being punched in the gut. We could not give them up. We had never owned pit bulls before, but they had won us over within a week’s time. We wound up adopting them ourselves.

Shakespeare was goofy and a bit klutzy—perhaps because he was bow-legged—and he bumped his head into the wall more than once. He loved his belly rubs, rides in the car, and going to the park. He had a gentle spirit and loving heart. He always needed to have something in his mouth (normally a shoe) to greet you.

He loved Christmas. He actually became giddy when Julia got out the decorations. Just like a little child, he loved tearing open the presents we got for him and his siblings each year.

He also loved going to the vet. I guess that’s a good thing because he got to see the vet a lot. He showed signs of arthritis in his knees before he turned a year old. He had one surgery to help with that, and he eventually required corrective surgery for torn ligaments. He recovered nicely. However, his knees eventually got worse, and he started taking pain pills regularly.

Shortly before Thanksgiving of 2019, he was showing signs of not being well, and we attributed it to his arthritis. However, things got so bad that we took him to the doctor, and they discovered a massive tumor on his spleen that had ruptured. It required emergency surgery. The diagnosis was hemangiosarcoma, and the prognosis was not good.

At the doctor’s recommendation, my wife took Shakespeare to a specialized cancer clinic in Dallas for a full assessment and treatment plan so we could start him on chemotherapy. He did well on the medications and quickly bounced back from each round of treatment. Shakespeare was not a fan of all the pills, but we turned giving them into a game by hiding them inside soft dog food and calling them “meatballs”. He even did a little dance by turning in a circle after getting each of his meatballs.

Shakespeare seemed to be outliving the vet’s prognosis, and we secretly hoped our baby dog had beaten the odds when Thanksgiving of 2020 rolled around. However, he had started developing tumors on his belly and inside of his rear legs. One became rather large and would rupture from time to time. The bleeding was hard to manage, so we had it removed. Shakespeare also seemed to bounce back from that surgery, but he developed an infection, which we began treating with more pills. Despite all the medications, he was regaining his puppy-like, playful spirit.

We never suspected how little time he had left. One evening, shortly before bedtime, he suddenly collapsed from a possible aneurysm. Before I could grab my car keys and rush him to the clinic, he was gone. It was barely two weeks before what we assume would have been his 10^th birthday. We are thankful that he did not suffer long and that we were not forced to take him to the vet to have him put down because he no longer had quality of life. He lived his life to the fullest until the very last minute. That may be a lesson for us all.