My co-pilot is no longer riding shotgun for me during our many road trips. She’s gone, but not forgotten seven years later.

Purdy, who was by my side for 2,378 days after coming home with me on July 2, 2009 following the death of my first Jack Russell Terrier (JRT) Tassja the day before, was put to sleep in Carberry Jan. 4 at 12:15 p.m.

With the exception of visiting a dentist, this was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I received plenty of advice from friends and family who have had to visit a vet so their beloved family pet could be euthanized because of health ailments. Or put to sleep as I like to say, and not “put down” by the vet.

For Purdy, in her 15th year of canine life at the time, it was old age which had creeped up on her, especially during the festive season when she no longer had an appetite, including enjoying her favourite treats.

The above poem helped me decided it was time I thought of Purdy, and not my own desire to not let my elderly JRT go. While cancer was not devastating her body, old-age sure was as I watched her stop eating, which led to considerable weight loss. And she could no longer see properly, so was unable to jump up and down from her chair or the bed we shared.

Her wagging tail was no longer saluting me when I arrived home, greeting me at the door after watching from the window as I pulled up in the driveway. No more Purdy doggie kisses. Sleep was her one comfort in her final days.

She would still follow me around the house, but her walk no longer had pace or her canine bounce. In her last few weeks I had to take her outdoors, for fear she’d slip off the snowy deck steps and hurt her fragile physique.

When she was no longer able to climb up the stairs, I’d carry her back and let her settle on her favourite blankets, whether on the floor, or on her chair.

Life for an energetic JRT is drastically changed when they become elderly. Her nose did not let her down, but her other senses like hearing, sight and agility had waned. My decision to send her on the “long sleep” came down to Purdy’s quality of life. Or let her cross over the rainbow bridge as other pet owners refer to it, our pet’s death.

While she could not communicate with me vocally, her body language spoke volumes when I looked at her on my bed in the morning of her final day of life. 

Tearful as I held her at the vet’s in Carberry, Dr. Marie North was compassionate to my plight, and Purdy was gone in seconds after the injection. A final blink, and her head went limp as she rested it on my shoulder. The tiny heart beat I felt seconds earlier had stopped.

We then made the 126-kilometre drive to the pet crematorium in Virden — I held her front paws, as I did driving to Carberry, as we drove west on Hwy 1.

I spent almost four hours with Purdy at the crematorium as she lay swaddled in her favourite baby-blue blanket. I shared stories about Purdy’s life with Karen Gardiner of Peaceful Valley Pet Crematorium, which has operated in the Westman for 18 years.

It was then Maj Reg Sharpe, former Base Engineer and CE OC, who recommended the pet crematorium. He had used this pet service when his JRT Milo died while he was posted to CFB Shilo.

Purdy was born on Sept. 26, 2001 on Vancouver Island. She was with my sister Morgan Cattrall for her first eight years, then joined me after Canada Day 2009.

Cremated as the sun was setting on the Manitoba prairies, Peaceful Valley Pet Crematorium had my pet’s remains back to me 48 hours later. I know my pain has waned over time as I adjust without Purdy not being in the front passenger seat as I go on another road trip. My new JRT Dotti, then just six months old, has now filled the void left by Purdy’s death.

As Dr. North’s condolence card read after it arrived in the mail the following week after Purdy’s death: “Pets are not our whole life … but they make our lives whole.” How true! Love you Purdy — RIP!