Farewell, Dr. Watson.

Tonight, we had to say goodbye to a very dear friend. Doctor Watson, our 10-year old Border Collie / Australian Sheppard mix, had to be put to sleep. For the past few months he had been suffering from a variety of digestive issues. One of the vets we spoke with suspected a canine variant of Crohn’s disease. Whatever the case, none of the treatments he received had any lasting effect. Having to euthanize a pet is an agonizing decision, but it’s one that most pet owners eventually have to face.

At some point last weekend, Lisa and I realized that the inevitable was within sight. I wanted to take him to one of his favorite walking and running places, for a final runabout, but he had been too weak to do much moving. I then considered getting him one of his favorite treats, as a parting gift, but he hadn’t been eating consistently for a few weeks. It was painful to see.

He spent most of his last day sleeping in his favorite spot on the living room floor, right below the skylight.

Such images stir up memories. When we first moved into our house, we promised Caitlin that we would get a dog. When I was young, I had a very good experience with a Border Collie mix, so we started searching for one. We acquired Watson from the Atlantic Region Central Border Collie Rescue, based near Richmond, back in 2009. He was roughly a year old at the time. When we went to the rescue farm to pick out a dog, we were greeted by several bouncy, rambunctious Border Collies. Some were entirely too rambunctious, and one was downright pushy.

Watson was different. Granted, like the others he came into the meeting pen and vied for attention; such behavior is common for Borders. But once he finished that, he settled down on the stairs and leaned his head against Lisa’s shoulder. A short time later, he sauntered over to Caitlin and did the same. Finally he came over to me, gave me several licks on the hand, then sat down next to me. It’s been said that dogs often choose their owner. Watson certainly choose us, and we were very lucky for it.

We couldn’t have asked for a better dog. He was as friendly and good-natured a dog as one could ever find, and he was always great company. His table manners were never the best, and he tended to flop down in the most inconvenient places possible. But at the same time he rarely begged, wasn’t an incessant barker, and he never got on the furniture (unless he was invited).

In many ways, Doctor Watson was the first one to realize that Michael had a life-threatening cyst on his left lung. When Michael came home as a baby, we had some extended family milling around, and some expressed concern over Watson’s aggressive sniffing at Michael’s left chest. When we learned that Michael had the cyst, we concluded that Watson must have sensed that something was wrong. (Perhaps he could smell the corrupted tissue?) Apparently he was trying to inform us.

The decision to put him to sleep was heartbreaking. But again, the various treatments we tried were not working. It was as if his entire digestive system just gradually stopped functioning. Given that he wasn’t eating at all consistently, there was a real chance that he would starve right in front of us. We had simply run out of options and time.

As I write this, I realize how much I’m going to miss the furry goofball.


After taking care of things at the vet’s office, Lisa started for home, while I took care of some errands in town. When it came time for me to grab a quick dinner, another strange memory surfaced.

A few years back, I brought home take out from Burger King, because we were all too tired for much else. Before I could distribute the food, however, Watson’s muzzle had descended into one of the bags. He managed to snarf up a double whopper with cheese, some chicken tenders, and an order of onion rings. He didn’t even have the decency to get a stomach ache later! I wasn’t happy with him. Neither was Lisa, because it was her sandwich that he had stolen!

Earlier this evening, I went into Burger King and ordered a double whopper with cheese, with onion rings. Such fare is unwise for a type-ii diabetic, and I suspect I will be reminded of that when I check my sugar before going to bed. But Watson would have loved it.

I looked at that big, greasy sandwich, and couldn’t help but smile before biting into it. This one is for you, Watson.

Sleep well.


Lisa featured Watson in an article connected to her blog.