Wimpy's Mother, Jean Gilbert, is 'the other half' of the Dachshund Memorial Garden. Please read this beautiful tribute to Wimpy, the first of Jean's six dachsies to travel to the Bridge, which was written by Jean's husband, Mark.
Afternoon, 27 November 2002, five days after Wimpy had his eyes removed due to glaucoma . . .
Wimpy's yesterday was a great day! He romped, ran in circles when it was treat time and really enjoyed himself . . . as did we.
Then last night between 11 and midnight his breathing became laboured. After a few hours of breathing difficulty - choking and gasping - we contacted the emergency clinic. They asked us to check what colour his gums were and they were white. They said to bring him in now and we did.
They put him on oxygen, took x-rays, put in an IV and gave him an injection. They said he was in congestive heart failure and explained our options, stating that the same thing might happen next week . . . there were just no guarantees. His little swollen heart was occupying 80 per cent of his chest. The expenses from last night and from Friday are horrendous and to have any help given would have been more so . . . but again we did not make our decision 'about money'.
After Jean and I discussed it thoroughly I asked the emergency vet - in a small voice - 'can you do it here or do we need to wait for our family vet?' They said they could do it and invited me in to the room to be with him.
His breathing was still quite distressed and I held him close. He faced me and as though he had a voice I heard, 'I know Daddy . . . it's time for me to go on ahead'. I whispered, 'we love you big guy' in return.
I continued to hold him close and the vet administered the injection. I felt his relief as his little 10.75 pound body went limp and he was gone. The time was 5:31 a.m. American EST. I continued to hold him until he started to get cold and then laid him carefully on the table and covered him to the neck with a blanket, as though to keep him warm, and gave him a gentle kiss.
As I left the room he looked like he was having a nice, peaceful sleep.
We miss our little ol' man and neither of us can stop crying. We will never, ever forget him . . . and if there is a Rainbow Bridge . . . I know we will see him there, with his eyes and with perfect sight.
Wimpy, we love you!
Afternoon, 29 November 2002 . . .
Our other five puppers seem to know and have handled it much better than we. We still expect to see him spinning 'round when it's treat time . . . or joining his pack in barking at a strange noise with that husky voice of his. We miss his little stub of a tail quivering because he knows it's meal time. We just miss him very deeply.
Afternoon, 30 November 2002 . . .
Wimpy was a fighter who loved life. He fought and beat tremendous odds much of his nearly 13 years. His last few hours were fighting a fight he could not win . . . the odds had caught up with him. He lived a long, happy life and left knowing that he had done all he could and that he was very loved. We still miss him . . . every minute of every day. There is a Wimpy-shaped hole in our hearts that will always be there.
Afternoon 12 December 2002 . . .
It was two weeks yesterday we let Wimpy go . . . we still miss him so much. A few nights ago Jean let the kids out to do their business and commented when they came in that five had gone potty. Without thinking I asked, 'which one didn't go?' Even then it was several seconds before I realised what I said...