Snoop Dog

By Tucker Wallace

The day was finally here. The day you never expect to come until it has arrived. The day you don’t think about until it’s too late. The day I had to put my dog down. It was necessary, no doubt. After 12 years of having Snoop, there began to be problems. Snoop continued to lose weight no matter how much he ate, a condition of his diabetes, very common in Miniature Schnauzers we came to find out. His ribs were sticking farther and farther out, forcing him to lie on his side instead of his stomach due to the pain. Yes, putting him down was necessary, but that didn’t make it any easier.

I recall the day we got Snoop. It was Christmas Eve, I was four years old, bouncing off the walls, as you would expect. The doorbell rang, I heard a bark, and we, my five-year-old sister and I, rushed to the front door. My dad walked through the garage door right after the doorbell rang, returning from his trip from the Home Depot he said.  Ironic timing as I look back on it, but my four year old brain didn’t put the pieces together. He talked of seeing Santa’s sleigh in the air. We then opened the front door to find the newest member of our family, Snoop. Our eyes lit up like children on Christmas morning, no pun intended. He was in his kennel with a note attached from Santa, explaining that Snoop was so excited to live with us and that he couldn’t wait until Christmas! I can still remember the jealousy I felt over the next few weeks as Snoop followed my dad around and completely ignored me. “Because Dad reminds him of Santa Claus,” my mother explained. But he did warm up to me and he became one of my best friends.

I had just returned home from school, one hour until the appointment. I was attempting to keep a brave face for my siblings, already in tears. We loaded up into the car, me driving (hoping it would keep my mind off of what was about to happen), my dad in the passenger seat, and my siblings in the back with Snoop, who was enjoying all the attention.

I thought back to the time I taught Snoop to sit. My parents had friends over, and I was trying to get in on their adult conversations, a little too complex for my five-year-old brain to comprehend. “Go teach Snoop a trick.” My dad said in desperation, just to get me out of the room. I went to the other room, one arm around a case of 100 dog treats, the other around my dog. I must’ve used half of the dog treats, but when I returned 20 minutes later, beaming, Snoop knew how to sit on command. You could feel my pride radiating from the other side of the room as Snoop indeed sat for my parents and their friends to see. I gave him another treat.

It hadn’t worked. Driving was clearly not distracting enough as tear after tear rolled down my face. Looking over and seeing my normally stone-faced dad in the same situation didn’t help at all.

I thought back to the times I had attempted to take him on a walk. No matter how hard I tried, Snoop had to be the leader. We were never going fast enough, whether sprinting or walking. He was never far enough ahead of me, whether four feet with the normal leash or thirty feet with the expandable one. If he wasn’t choking himself with his collar, he wasn’t going fast enough.

We finally made it. I got us to the veterinary clinic without getting in a wreck, which was a definite possibility considering my tear-filled, clouded up vision. My mom met us at the clinic, so she could drive the family home afterwards; I had basketball practice to go to when we were done. We walked into the clinic, and up to the front desk. We waited in the front lobby for what seemed to be an eternity; I couldn’t hide my tears from the strangers in the clinic for so long. Snoop began barking at everything that moved. This turned my thoughts to another memory:

No matter what we tried, shock collar, hitting him on the nose, putting him in his kennel, every time someone knocked at the front door, within a hundredth of a millisecond, Snoop was right there, barking his guts out, and he would not stop until about ten minutes after the intruder entered our house. He would then tone down to growling, and in his last attempt to rid them from the premises; he’d use his final defense, his stench. He’d stay at their side the entire time they were over, expecting to get petted non stop, while his trade mark wet-dog, moldy cheese, rotten egg smell was festering. I could literally see the moment his fumes floated up into their nose, not a pretty sight.

            We were finally admitted to “The Remembrance Room.” “Take all the time you need,” we were told. Great, just what I needed, more time to think about the inevitable. I looked around the room as everyone was fighting for his attention, while all Snoop wanted to do was explore. He was so naïve as to what was about to happen. It was probably better that way.

            The nurse then entered back into the room, needle in hand. We were ready, or as ready as you can be for a moment like this. She explained he would feel no pain; it would be like going to sleep. “I must warn you though, in rare cases, a side effect of this injection is barking. Just remember if he does bark, he’s not in pain, it’s just a side effect.” If he started barking I would’ve probably ripped that needle out of his arm myself. We all put our hands on Snoop as she put the needle into place.

            Goodbye Snoop. I’ll always remember your trash raids. You always looked forward to Tuesdays, trash day, so you could raid the neighborhood and come back that night and throw it all up again. I won’t forget the countless times I cleaned up your poop in the basement, or your “pee wall”, because outside wasn’t good enough for you. I won’t forget coming home everyday to you, barking at me, wagging your tail, the first one to greet me no matter what. Goodbye.

            She stuck in the needle, his head fell to the ground, his body limp, still staring into space with wide-open eyes. Then the “I wishes” started to come. Oh how I wish I had went and played fetch with you instead of watching that TV show! Oh how I wish I would’ve went to the park with you more, petted you more instead of kicking you away! But, of course, I couldn’t do a thing. And that was it. On to my new life, without my oldest friend, Snoop. I tried to wipe away the tears, forget about what just happened, as I entered the gym, put on my practice gear, and went on with my new life.