A week ago, we said goodbye to our 13 1/2 year old dog, Bifi1. She was a street mutt, named after the African country Biafra by the shelter that saved her from starvation, which in short became Bifi. She was my partner’s dog since she was a few months old, I’ve know her since she was 4, and she became ‘my’ dog as well when she was around 7.

Every dog owner will say this about their own dog, but Bifi truly was one of the best dogs I’ve ever met in my life. Not only that, she also was one of the most beautiful dogs. With her sandy fur and her perfect Egyptian eyeliner, she looked like the Queen of the Desert herself. We got compliments and comments from random strangers every once in a while about how beautiful she was2.

But she was also an exceptionally good dog. She was incredibly polite, careful and curious. She would approach strangers or guests coming to the house slowly to politely sniff and greet them. She would never run or jump at someone, like some dogs do.

Even to greet us when we got home, she would always be gentle and show her excitement in a well-mannered way, wiggling her tail and sometimes bumping her head into our legs affectionately. When she was really excited, sometimes she’d squeeze herself between our legs, wanting her butt scratched.

We could always trust Bifi to be a good dog. She never attempted to steal food from kitchen counters, or from tables. Even when we put food on the low sofa table, which is perfect for her height, she would not touch it. You could even leave the room and she would not touch it. She never chewed on or destroyed anything in the house.

Bifi never showed aggression towards humans, and never bit anyone. The only times I saw her show aggression was when she was attacked by other aggressive dogs. She could definitely growl, but even when she growled, she was never aggressive about it. Just very grumpy.

She sometimes got very grumpy when we were playing board games or DnD and we were really loud while playing. She’d lie next to us on her dog bed, and growl occasionally, expressing her displeasure about the noise level. Sometimes with her face facing away from us, growling at the wall. But idiosyncratic as she was, she still preferred to lie there next to us, instead of going to the other room where she could have rested in quiet on the couch.

She was such a good dog that several of our friends who send us their condolences after her passing, told us that Bifi was the first dog that they were not afraid of. All of our friends who knew her and saw her regularly (for example at board game nights or when playing DnD) expressed their condolences and were truly sorry to hear of her passing.

Bifi had a very unique, very quirky personality. Most quirky of all perhaps was that she didn’t like to snuggle. On the contrary, she always insisted on having her 1 meter of personal space. If you would try to sit next to her on the couch or on the floor, she’d grumpily get up and leave. If you’d hug her, she would growl at you annoyed, but not show any aggression. When I first got to know her, it took me a while to understand that her growling is not to be compared with that of other dogs I knew. She did enjoy to be pet through, as long as you didn’t try to sit next to her.

She loved to play catch with the ball when she was younger, and would run until she needed to rest under a tree. She loved to play at home with her favorite toy, her Kong Wobbler, which she always demanded (in her very polite way of just standing next to you and looking at you) after the midday walk.

When she would come to wake us up in the morning, it would likewise just be her walking into the bedroom, standing next to the bed, and leaving again whether or not we acknowledged her. If we acknowledged her by petting her, she’d go back to her spot and wait for us. Sometimes she came back 5 minutes later to remind us to wake up. No jumping, no whining, nothing but just standing there and looking at us.

She had her own, sometimes very strong opinions. Usually we let her choose where to go for a walk, and sometimes she had really crazy ideas about where to walk. Also, sometimes she just absolutely didn’t want to go for a walk, and would just stand there with a sour face, not moving no matter how hard you tried to convince her. This was especially often the case if just one of us (just me or just my partner) were trying to take her for a walk when there’s already a commotion going on (e.g. lots of guests at home).

She liked people more than she liked other dogs. When out for a walk in the park, sometimes she’d approach random people and politely sniff them (if we and they let her). But other dogs, she usually did a big loop around to get out of their way and avoid them. Very, very rarely did she play with other dogs, but usually she just really DGAF about other dogs and completely ignored them.

The few times we were in contact with other dogs (e.g. at events), she didn’t really enjoy the other dogs presence so much. She usually quickly became territorial, and would try to take over the other dogs’ beds or toys. She was never aggressive towards them, but she definitely showed her dominance.

She was also very protective of her human-pack, and liked to be the leader. When we went for walks together, or sometimes with other people, she’d always lead and always make sure that everyone is following.

Unfortunately, Bifi’s life was not without troubles. Having been neutered by the shelter probably at too young age, she had issues especially with her knees and hip. When she was 6, we noticed that she would limp after long walks, which was a recurring issue. Only after we went to a different vet did we find out that she has issues with her knees, and with an impending cruciate ligament rupture. Due to the limping, she also had arthritis in her knees and hip. Eventually she had knee surgery, a TTA surgery to stabilize the knee with the ruptured ligament. This was a difficult experience for all of us, but it showed us how much of a fighter Bifi is. She recovered incredibly well from the surgery, and soon after was running like never before.

But one ligament rupture is very often followed by another. Two years after the first surgery, we noticed her limping again on the other leg. The vet confirmed our suspicions, and the ligament on the other knee, which had been over-stressed from the limping on the first knee, was also about to rupture. So when she was 9, she had surgery on the other leg. Again, she handled it bravely and recovered quickly. With two titanium implants in her legs, she became our titanium dog.

Due to her arthritis and surgeries, she was never very mobile when it came to sitting down. It was always a bit of effort for her to get up from her bed, but once we started walking, she was a trooper. However, as she got worse when she got older, we started giving her monthly arthritis injections when she was about 10 or 11 years old. At first they always made a huge difference, but by the time she was almost 13, she was getting worse again, and started also getting daily painkillers. And that’s really the beginning of the end.

Even though Bifi was physically still in great shape (considering her medical history), once she passed 13, her age really started to catch up to her. Even worse, there were some renovations in the house that often caused her to panic from the noise. But even once those were gone, we really started to notice how she changed. She was constantly anxious, not resting as she used to, and often trying to crawl into corners that she didn’t fit into. Sometime around autumn last year, we also noticed that she became deaf. She wouldn’t listen to commands anymore, and she didn’t hear the doorbell anymore (she used to bark at that). By the time New Year’s Eve came around, she was almost completely deaf, and sadly, this had the advantage that she didn’t panic anymore from all the fireworks.

Her mental condition kept getting worse and worse throughout January, and after several visits at the vet, we realized that she must have neurological issues, likely cognitive dysfunction syndrome or a growing tumor. By this time she was already getting stronger painkillers and other supplements every day. But the behavioral issues worsened, and became so difficult to deal with that we couldn’t sleep anymore. Very often, in the rare cases that she was resting, she would have a “panic attack” in that she would jump up and be scared and shivering. At night this was especially bad, and it was impossible to calm her down. We tried lots of things, from a thundershirt to medication, but nothing seemed to help her anymore. She was getting strong medication to relax her every day on top of all her painkillers, which made no difference.

Since she was restless all the time, her body started to give out. Her hind legs, which were always her bane, often started collapsing when she was standing. In the last month, she barely lifted them anymore when we went for walks, and her claws on her hind legs would bleed from being dragged on the asphalt.

Her personality changed in these past few months as well. She became very clingy, which is so untypical for this dog that always needed her 1 meter of personal space. Now she wanted to be pet and be close to you all the time, squeezing next to us on the sofa. Her last weeks, my partner had to sleep on the couch next to her, because that was the only way she would rest at least a little bit.

We were at our wits end, exhausted, and sad to see her like this. She was on 5 different medications with no improvements, and we couldn’t imagine that her existence, being so constantly anxious, was still enjoyable for her. We talked about it for weeks, but at the end of January, I think we finally reached the point where we saw that the best thing to do for her is to let her go.

Making this decision, is so, so hard. You are constantly questioning yourself. Looking at her, wondering. But then you see all the little things that are so different about her, that add up. Her dementia, her panic attacks, her constant anxiety, her legs dragging, her deafness, her personality changes, her slowly deteriorating potty-training, her face that became completely grey…

For weeks, we wondered, considered, read about this on the internet. One article that I found during that time stuck with me. It’s “The Good Death”, written by a vet. She goes into detail about all those feelings you go through when facing this decision. When do you know it’s time? When the dog can’t get up from their bed anymore? When they pee themselves in their sleep? When they’re not only deaf but also blind? When they stop eating? But the truth often is: once you started asking yourself the question “When is it time?”, it’s time. You know it in your gut, but you don’t want to listen to it because your heart says something else. And most people don’t listen to their gut, they drag it out too far because their heart can’t bear it, and they see their pet suffer more and more. But you gave your pet a good life, and now it’s your responsibility to also give them a good death, to save them from unnecessary suffering. I regret a bit that my mother, who took over the care of my childhood dog Jeannie3 when I moved, never really did that. I didn’t want that for Bifi. She was always such a proud and dignified dog, and she deserved to be spared from becoming worse and worse.

So last week on Tuesday, we went to the vet, pretty much already knowing that we’re ready. The vet, however, convinced us to try another medication for another 2 days, to see if her issues are pain-related. It didn’t help, and with this it was confirmed that her issues were very likely neurological, probably due to a tumor. The vet said we could do an MRI to be sure, but what for? Put Bifi through anesthesia at her old age, to maybe or maybe not find a tumor which we could do nothing about anyway? As I wrote above, we knew it anyway in our gut. It was time.

Wednesday we made the appointment for Thursday afternoon. It was such a strange day and a half. Everything felt so surreal. Sitting next to her, knowing that tomorrow she won’t be here anymore. Wondering if it’s the right decision, and shortly after she’d be having another episode of trying to crawl into the TV stand. Some of our friends came over to say goodbye.

Then Thursday came, and we went for our last morning walk. Gave her her last meal. For the lunch walk, we wanted to take her to the forest. We used to go to the forest almost every weekend until a few years ago. But not in a while. We started walking there, and at one point she didn’t want to take the turn to the forest. I convinced her, and we walked to the forest. We started our usual route, and at one point in the forest we tried to take a shortcut to make it easier for her. She didn’t want to, she wanted the usual, longer route. She did bravely, and we had a wonderful last walk with her. There was still a bit of snow in the forest, and it was also snowing a little bit. What a beautiful memory to have of her last walk.

We went back home, and spent the final 2 hours with her on the couch. Thinking, wondering if we’re really doing the right thing – and as if to confirm, she jumps and has one of her panic attacks.

It was so surreal to then walk to the vet. It felt like walking through a veil. It felt so wrong and strange to walk there. And then to be there, in the practice, with the vet talking to us, and us barely able to say anything from the tears streaming down our faces. What are we doing here, I thought, looking at Bifi’s beautiful little face.

The vet prepared her, and then I lifted her to the blanket that was ready for her on the floor. We sat there with her for a few minutes, petting her, crying, until the vet came and asked us if we can let her go. It was so fast, Bifi was looking at me as we were holding and petting her, and a few second later she was just gone. Finally she was resting.

We stayed with her a while, and eventually after we said our goodbye, we left her there (she would be picked up by a cremation service). We walked home, feeling very strange without her. But also a little bit relieved. Finally, we didn’t have to wonder what’s wrong with her anymore. We know we gave her a good death, and spared her from becoming worse and worse.

Coming back to an empty apartment was so strange. All her things still there. We didn’t really do much for the rest of the day except grieve, and watch a movie. The next morning we started to put most of her things away. But already waking up was so strange, because suddenly there’s just no real purpose to get out of bed. No need to take Bifi for a walk, and feed her when getting home. No need to take her out 4 times a day.

But it’s also so strange that she’s just not there. She was always somewhere, and every time one of us passed her, we’d pet her a little, telling her what a good dog she is. I found myself wanting to go find her and pet her soft, shiny fur, and I couldn’t anymore. What is the purpose of my hands now, if not to pet Bifi?

Losing a pet is a devastating experience. Even though we knew this was coming for weeks, it’s still hard to come to terms with. Pets love unconditionally and 100% depend on you to take care of them. Having this bond is so unique. I knew this dog like I knew no other dog, and she knew me. She loved us, especially my partner, so unconditionally. Not having this bond anymore leaves a really big hole. I could go to any dog in the street and pet it, but petting and interacting with a bonded animal is such an irreplaceable feeling. I will miss her very much.

Bifi was unique, and I’m truly thankful that she was part of my life. She had such a strong personality, even our vet really liked her. The vet once told us that if Bifi was a human, she’d be in the military4. She went through two big surgeries with ease. She’s a fighter and would never show weakness, even as she became old and frail. She had a true warrior’s soul, and I hope that now she can feast in the halls of her mutt ancestors.