In June of 2013, I was asked to foster a boy whose human was moving and couldn't take him with her. Moxie had been with his mom for five years, and when I picked him up, he looked so sad. The minute he walked in the house, he curled up on the love seat in my family room and looked over at me to make sure it was ok.
My JJ and Dustin (and EZ who was still with us at the time) took to him immediately. He was unassuming and non intrusive. Within a week, he had totally bonded. He slept in the bed with his nose shoved deep in my neck with one front paw across my chest.
About three weeks later, the group called and said they had found a home....but I couldn't do it to him. I know how sad he was losing his first mom, and he had clearly become part of my home and couldn't have him feel like he was again deserted....so we made it official.
Last winter, I decided that he needed something special....just for him since my other two had each other, so I started working towards getting him credentialed as a pet therapy dog. In June he passed all his training tests and was ready to start his internship.
Tuesday, September 2, was supposed to be his first day. But that morning, a vet visit confirmed what I feared....the limp that started just a few days before was that horrible osteo.....advanced and in his lungs....I feared that a break was imminent and made his final appointment for Thursday.
When I got him into my car Thursday, he was so excited because he thought he was going for his therapy training which he loved. He sat in the back of the explorer smiling at me despite the awful pain he was clearly in as he had begun yelping when he moved wrong. So, though he was not yet credentialed, I called the nursing home where he trained and asked if he could come and be a real therapy dog before he left me. I called my vet and postponed the appointment for an hour....and Moxie went to that nursing home and did a round of therapy like a champ. He smiled the whole time despite limping.
And then we left for the vet. Sadly, his spirit was strong, and he fought the sedation. I wish I could say his passing was peaceful....but it was not. He stood up and resisted going down to the point he leaned into me to support him. He knew something was happening that he didn't want. While I know I had no choice, I am crushed for him that his heart and spirit weren't ready to leave at his young age of eight.
This is picture of him the day he passed his temperament testing to continue in the program. One of the women is who we saw last week. He loved her, and she him....