His Name Would Have Been Pike 

He was a handsome fellow, found running loose in town. A noble yellow Labrador Retriever, although a little bit thin, showed promise of being a devoted companion. His owners never called and after one week he was available for adoption. We had guessed him at 5-6 years of age. Not a good age to be looking for a new home, but such a sweet obedient guy he was. As I walked through, making the dreaded 'picks' for the day, I lingered at his kennel. "One more day", I would think, "maybe tomorrow". Three weeks this went on. Then, miracle of miracles, a gentleman wanted him. The man passed the screening with flying colors and the Lab was introduced to the gentleman's Golden Retriever. There was a little friction, but the new owner was confident and experienced with dogs. He was going to name the Lab "Pike".

"Pike" had been mildly lame on the left rear leg ever since he had been admitted to our kennel. The new owner was advised of this and intended to have the leg checked when the dog was transported to the vet for his neuter (mandatory on all adoptions). Last night I bathed "Pike" for his trip to the vet this morning. What an angel! I couldn't even convince him to shake while he was in the tub. Blow dryer, nail grinder, nothing phased him. Just stood like a gentleman the whole time.

This morning I took him out for a potty break before we drove to the vet. The scoundrel slipped his leash and proceeded to play tag with me. He finally came back and jumped in the truck and we headed to the vet.

I prayed in the vet's office while they ran his heartworm test. As a 5+-year-old stray, I knew there would be a strong possibility of a positive result. NEGATIVE! Thank doG! I left the clinic feeling happy and satisfied that "Pike" was on his way to a happier life.

This afternoon the vet called. They had x-rayed the bum leg and the other leg as well. The picture showed three pins in the bum leg, but the healing had not gone well. In addition, both hips showed advanced hip dysplasia. The vet estimated that he would be crippled within the year. A full hip replacement was his only hope. The gentleman that was going to adopt him was in no position to take on a cost like that.

It was a long drive back to the vet's this afternoon. She let me see the radiographs and pointed out all the problems with "Pike's" hips. The whole time, "Pike" sat as close to me as a dog can possibly get. He danced at the door of the truck, impatient for me to open it. For once in my life, I drove less than the speed limit for the 20 miles back to the shelter. "Pike" spent the entire drive doing full body rubs in the back seat. I thought about what could be done to save this dog.
Could I beg for donations to fix his hips?
Could I wait and see if some one else would be interested in adopting him?
Could I just maintain him with pain control until I figured something out?
But I am a logical person and I knew that I was already 8 kennels short from the dogs that had come in just today. Three yellow labs were already in the adoption program, all younger than "Pike".
This evening I let "Pike" run around the property doing the boy dog thing and sniffing all the trees. We played some fetch and I gave him a handful of peanut butter biscuits. Then I did my job and told him he was a great dog as I injected the sodium pentobarbital in his vein. He left this world wagging his tail.

To any one that breeds dogs, I request one thing. If you are going to create a beautiful soul (as most dogs have), please have the decency to put it in a sound body.

His name would have been "Pike".