So our man Zeus is on the decline. He's almost 15 1/2, that's a good run for any dog. I know this. He's mostly blind, has increasingly selective hearing and his breath, good God, that breath leaves a lot to be desired. Like an industrial-strength breath mint, for starters.

He's basically a sweet guy, but here's the thing, or at least part of the thing. Since he tried to kill himself via a box of Clif bars a few years ago he really hasn't been the same. I don't blame him, that was quite an ordeal, but it nonetheless, he's a changed man since then. Basically, he's senile. He barks at random times, he bumps into things and lately his legs are starting to give out on him. We suspect he may have had a small stroke this winter, since at first it was just one side of him that had all the trouble.

We've done our best to keep him happy, keep him a little on the fat side, give him some tasty vittles to eat. But it's coming to a point where we're going to have to make a decision.

CAUTION: I'm about to discuss some very gross things here, you may want to skip ahead...

This one is harder than it was with Gus and Ellie because with both of them, the path to their demise was marked by vast quantities of shit and blood throughout the house. Less so for Ellie, but Gus, my sweet Gus, he became a spraying faucet of bloody poop that was no picnic to clean up. This is sort an understatement because this all went on while Andrea was at work and I was home with a 3 week old baby. In case you didn't know, 3 week old babies require a fair bit of care and c-sections don't exactly heal overnight. Adding this level of mess and sadness to all that work made for some dark days.

OKAY, NO MORE GROSS STUFF FROM HERE ON DOWN...

A couple of times, we thought this was it for Gus but then he'd perk back up. We tried to follow his lead and not rush things, balancing that with not waiting too long. Because with Ellie, we waited about a day too long and I'll always carry some guilt around that. I'm sorry, El. We should have taken you in that Saturday night.

So with Gus, maybe we waited an hour too long but our timing was strategic. We wanted to get to the vet's late at night, when the summer heat had broken for the day and when the vet's was quieter. We'd been through it before and it seemed better for all of us to have that plan.

I remember carrying him to the car, holding a towel around his stomach to hold his back legs up. He could barely get in the car but he was kind enough to pee outside just before we went into the vet. As he died, I held him and said 'thanks for picking me.' He remains the easiest dog we've ever had, in so many ways he was simply the best.

But we knew his time was up. His body failed in such a dramatic way, there was no other option.

Zeus, like always, he's a different story. He's still fairly mentally intact (senility aside) and still eats every damn thing we give him. But. But he can hardly walk and he's having a harder time getting comfortable as the days go on. I just cannot tell when his time will be, which marker will be the one that makes us say, oh yes, he's ready now. Last Friday, he couldn't stand up and I thought okay, this is it.

But then he stood up, thus re-instating our confusion on the subject.

The bottom line is that we just don't know what to do. Which I guess means we should wait, that it's not quite his time yet. I really wish we knew for sure that it was the right thing.