Our precious Peyton passed away on Sunday, June 29, 2025. It happened so fast. I woke her around 7 AM to take her for her walk. She came running out of the bedroom and jumped up in the air. When she landed, she was so excited she spun in circles.
Nothing unusual happened on our walk. When we got home, I fed her and she lay down and took a nap. When she woke a few hours later, she tried to stand and fell over, hitting her head on the heater vent. We took her to the emergency vet in Mt. Laurel. When I put her in the van, she fell over again.
After the veterinarian examined her, she explained that the test showed she was bleeding inside. When asked how sure she was bleeding she said she was 75 % sure that she was. She said the only way to be positive was to cut her opened. Her gums and her tongue were pale, no red at all. She said she was 75 percent sure she was bleeding inside. The only way to tell would be to cut her opened. She was concerned that if she did she would fine cancer throughout her body. For those reasons mentioned, she didn’t recommend an operation.
There was not one day that Peyton didn’t make us laugh. She brought joy into our lives. She gave me a purpose to get up out of bed each morning and start moving.
Some say they could never go through the heartache of losing another dog (pet) and that it is worse than losing a human being that they loved. But, in doing that, they are depriving some other animal of their love. A Labrador’s life expectancy is 10 to 13 years. We knew Peyton’s time here on this earth was nearing an end. But, for some reason we thought she would live forever.
Whenever we vacationed with Peyton, I always packed a retriever practice bumper. I would throw the bumper out into the water and she would dive through the waves to retrieve it. During one of our vacations in Hilton Head, SC, I was on the beach throwing the practice dummy into the sea for her to fetch. The surf was rough this particular day, and the bumper got loss in the waves. She continued looking for it, ducking through the waves she swam further out to the calmer water. I know she would continue looking for it unless I called her to come back to me.
Suddenly, I saw a fin bobbing up and down out of the water. Was it a shark, or was it a dolphin? I didn’t know. Peyton, like my other retrievers, was whistle-trained. Two toots on the whistle was the signal for her to come. One toot of the whistle, and she will sit. Moving my hand and arm down, she will lie down. By this time, the training dummy had washed ashore. I blew the whistle twice, and she swam back to shore.
She was the easiest dog to train out of all the ones we own.
The topic of pets dying was being discussed on a veterinarian’s website. One person asked the vet what the most challenging part of his job was.
The specialist answered without hesitation that it was the hardest for him to see how old or sick animals look around the room for their owners before they close their eyes for the last time.
The veterinarian said,
“The fact is that 90 % of owners don’t want to be in a room with a dying animal. People leave so that they don’t see their pets die. But they don’t realize that it’s in these last moments of life that their pet needs them most.”
Veterinarians ask the owners to be close to the animals until the very end. ′′ It’s inevitable that they die before you. Don’t forget that you were the center of their life. Maybe they were just a part of you. But they are also your family. No matter how hard it is, don’t leave them.”
“Don’t let them die in a room with a stranger in a place they don’t like. It is very painful for veterinarians to see pets unable to find their owners in the last minutes of their lives. They don’t understand why the owner left them. After all, now more than ever they needed their owner’s comfort.”
Veterinarians do everything possible to ensure that animals are not so scared, but they are completely strangers to them. Don’t be a coward because it’s too painful for you. Think about the pet. Endure this pain for the sake of their sake. Be with them until the end.
On Sunday, Connie and I stayed with Peyton until she breathed her last breath. And, yes, it was hard to watch but neither of us would walk out of that room until she passed. In some ways it was closure of her life. And we owed her that much for all the joy she brought to our lives.
I found this poem, The Last Battle, written on a plaque hanging on the wall of a local veterinarian.
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- If it should grow frail
- You will be sad, I understand, but don’t let grief then stay your hand, for on this day, more than the rest, your love and friendship must stand the test. And pain should keep me from my sleep. Then, will you do what must be done?
- For this — the last battle — can’t be won. You will be sad, I understand, but don’t let grief then stay your hand,
- For on this day, more than the rest, Your love and friendship must stand the test.
- We have had so many happy years, and you wouldn’t want me to suffer so.
- When the time comes, please let me go.
- Take me to where my needs they’ll tend, Only stay with me till the end, And hold me firm and speak to me Until my eyes no longer see.
- I know in time you will agree. It is a kindness you do to me. Although my tail has waved last, from pain and suffering, I have been saved. Don’t grieve that it must be you who has to decide this thing to do; We’ve been so close — we three — these years, don’t let your heart hold any tears.
- — Author is Unknown
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Both Connie and I miss her so. We keep seeing her as we walk through our house. Neither of us can stop crying, I hurt inside. I keep asking myself how could she die so fast.