Bittersweet trip to SB

We're off today to Grandma and Farfar's house, so my posts for the rest of the weekend will probably come from there. I wish this was just a fun trip, but the actualy purpose of our trip is so we can have Oslo put to sleep. This has been a really long process and the decision was very hard and painful to make. I'm not super inclined to write all about it now, but I had several "tribute" post ideas in mind that in the morning light, seem kind of trite and not very fitting for this dog that I've known as long as I've known my husband. It's really interesting how an animal can become such a large part of your life.
Oslo's tale (tail) is long and rich with humorous, exasperating anecdotes. I couldn't tell them all here, I'd be typing and laughing all night. Throughout his life he has been quite the polarizing figure. Many people love him and are very sad to see him go, and there are those who hate him and have actually called for his demise on several occasions. What matters is that he's loved by our little family and we want to do the right thing in regard to him.
I know that people tend to anthropomorphize their animals, but in this case I really think it's appropriate. Oslo has a complete personality. For a very long time he was just like a crotchety old man. And just like you wouldn't begrudge and want to euthanize your crabby old Uncle Mort, I did not want to have Oslo take the deep sleep until it was really apparent that he was no longer enjoying a decent quality of life. I didn't think it fair to get rid of him just because he was inconvenient. And dear GOD is he ever a pain. But putting him to sleep only became an option for us really when it got well beyond the point of him just being annoying, and he kept losing more and more of his fiesty, crotchety, loving self. He is more like a shadow or a vague memory of the dog he used to be, and it's time to say goodbye.
In his youth he was a very spazzy animal, he was prone to biting, and would bark like his rear was on fire every time the door bell rang. This did not make him an ideal pet for his first owner who had a little baby, and so Chris agreed to adopt him.
So Chris took him in, dealt with all Olso's eccentricities, as did his other roommates, and Oslo became the house mascot.
I remember the first time I came over to Chris's apartment, he warned me that his dog was nice, but would bark at me until he got used to me. He said "just ignore him for 5 mintues and he'll be fine."
I instantly saw how he was a total attractive nuisance. He looked like a fluffy yellow teddy bear. He was completely and totally trusting of the people who were in his "pack", letting James pick him up by the front paws and spin him around, dangle him upside down and slap his belly yelling "BOBO" in his ear. Oslo would give out a fake growl, and mouth his hand if James got too rough, but never in all that time did Oslo bite during the "games" (I sometimes felt it was more like torture than play, but that's just me). So if you saw that, you'd think this dog is so cute, I'll just pet him with my face right in his, and then snap you just lost your nose.
When I was little I used to think I had super powers and could calm down angry animals just by looking them in the eye. I tried to test my theory when I was 6 in Paraguay with a large brindled mutt that was chained up in a family friend's yard. This animal was lunging and snarling and just begging me to come within his circle of "influence". Luckily my mother came out right as I was holding out my hand saying, "it's ok, I'm your friend", saving me from literally losing face. Since then I haven't put my theory to the test, and have a great deal of respect for animals and their owners, so I didn't try to pet Oslo during our first encounter. But there was something about me and Oslo that gives my childhood dreams some validity. Before long, I too became part of that trusted pack, and when I would ring the bell, Oslo would freak out in his usual "warning the group that intruders are here" way, but the second I would walk in the door he would stop and wag his tail violently. He would jump up on the couch and sit in my lap, or follow me to the kitchen, or drop a nasty grungy stuffed dog named Polly Flinders in my lap and bark so I would throw her and he would fetch.
I knew that Chris was a good guy, and a keeper in part because of how he took in and took care of this dog. He knew I was worth the hassle because Oslo absolutely adored me, and I became his favorite person of all time.
Oslo came with us after we got married and moved to Washington. He became my trusty companion when I was pretty much alone in a new city, no job, no friends, just married, and living truly away from my family for the first time. Oslo was my fuzzy touch stone. I knew he would love me unconditionally no matter what I did or didn't do, all he needed was some scritches behind the ears and the occasional treat.
He was a fearless, fun loving, loyal dog, who would not let you be swimming in the lake without him paddling out next to you even if it meant his little dog legs were ready to fall off. He was such a trooper, he would happily go on hikes that would be tough for me, a youngin' with long human legs. I don't want to whitewash his checkered past, he had on several occassions bitten people for nothing more than trying to pet him, he was neurotic, possessive, and on more than one occassion, I have been heard to say, "God Oslo, stop being such a dick!" But Oslo is family, and sometimes, you don't always get along with your family, you may have differences of opinion, like, "I want to eat your dinner at the table so I'll put my sharp little paws on your lap and my head by your plate", and the response "get the hell away from my steak", but family is all you have, so you suck it up and give him a piece of steak.
Now, blind, mostly deaf, after a stroke and without much vim or vigor, it's almost hard to remember what he was like in his former glory. The truth is now that we have a child of our own, the least of our worries about Oslo is that he'll bite Domingo. This is in part because Domingo is very good about not pulling at Oslo and does not go near him with food, but also because Oslo's a different dog than he was 9 years ago. Oslo still wants to be near us, he'll come into Domi's room and sleep on a blanket next to me as I'm reading Domi a story, or in the doorway of our room when I'm putting Domi down for a nap. If Domi is crawling or cruising around and he accidentally plops on or near Oslo, he'll lift up his head and depending on if it seems like his sleep will continue to be disturbed, he'll move away, but otherwise, he may just lay his head back down, and that is the end of it. I can't imagine him being so relaxed 2 or 3 years ago. He'll still have flashes every now and then, like if he realizes there are strangers in the house, he'll bark for a few minutes, and then go back to sleep, or go back to wandering around looking for food, but this is rarer and rarer. Now what we mostly worry about is him going to the bathroom on the carpet, having to have the babysitter clean up his various messes throughout the day, having him bark for no reason at various times throughout the day and night. And my worry that he's really suffering, but just not able to let us know.
I'm glad Domingo is still too little to really realize what it means to have a dog, and to have that dog die, especially when it is his parents taking the steps to bring about that death. I'm glad I don't have to explain to him the reason we all have to die, not just yet anyway. I am sad that he will not remember that he once had a dog named Oslo, that this was the best dog anyone could ask for. He was the sweetest, most loyal, and loving dog ever to pad around on four legs. I know that our lives will be a little easier once he's gone, but I also know that they will be a whole lot emptier.