10 1/2 months old is too early to lose a companion to the horrible disease called chronic renal failure. Timber lost his fight last Thursday, only a month after being diagnosed. We did everything we could think of. We even took him to Portland to be hooked up to their CRRT (continuous renal replacement treatment). It's like dialysis. But his kidney was just too damaged. We discussed taking him to one of the veterinary colleges for surgery, but even then the prognosis was not good. We decided to bring him home and spend his last couple of days telling him how much we love him and how much joy, love, happiness and laughter he brought to our lives.
I just wanted you to know a little bit about the puppy I knew and loved. He came to us as a big, chubby, ball of fur with the hugest feet I've ever seen and instantly hit it off with his big sisters (Sasha - 11yrs and Ally - 8yrs - both GSDs also). He was a stinker. There isn't a piece of furniture or doorframe in this house that doesn't have teeth marks. He chewed up my cell phone, the cordless phone, the remotes, you name it. I always knew when he had something he wasn't supposed to have, because he'd run by me as fast as he could. He knew he was being bad.
Everyone he met instantly fell in love with him, even people he didn't meet in person, but watched him grow up through my pictures on flickr. His huge dangling tongue, his one floppy ear that never stood, his huge feet, his long tail. Everything about him was endearing. If you look up joy in the dictionary, it should have his picture.
He was the funniest dog I ever met and quite literally, made me laugh out loud every single day. Whether it be the way he tilted his head back and forth with his tongue hanging out the side or just the silly expressions on his face. He loved for me to put his Kong on his head. He'd hold still, staring up at it for a few seconds, flip it off his head and catch it. Then drop it in my lap to do it again and again. He played chase and catch the ball every single day and could never get enough. When he got his first bath, he thought it was so cool. That night, at 1:00 am mind you, I wake up to a "thump, thump, thump, thump". He's in the bathroom, jumping in and out of the tub with a huge grin on his face. He was quite pleased with himself.
He followed me everywhere, even in the middle of the night. If I got up, he'd instantly pop up, yawn, stretch and sleepily follow me. Even curling up under the bathroom sink if that's where I was going.
He was known by many names: Timber, Timbo, Timberoo, Timbuktoo, the Timbernator, Monkey, Monkeyboy, Monk Monk and pretty much came to all of them. He loved his kiddy pool on hot days.
He was just something special in so many ways and it's so wrong that he was taken this way. I've spent the majority of the last 4 days crying hysterically. Everywhere I look in this house, reminds me of him and I can't believe he's gone. It's so unfair. I can't sleep, I can't eat and most of the time I can't breathe. This has hit me to my core. I couldn't have loved him anymore if I'd given birth to him myself. He was my child, my friend, my protector, my little comedian and I will never get over his loss.
If you haven't given up on me and have read this whole thing, thank you. Thank you for letting me tell his story so you'd know who he really was. He was more and deserved more then this horrible disease.