I took him into the vet on Tuesday because he wasn't eating and seemed not his usual self. When we got his blood work back on Wednesday, the results showed kidney failure. By Thursday morning he was in pain and crying nonstop with labored breathing, so we took him in to have him put to sleep.
We got Toby when Chase was fourteen. It was my lesson in never saying to my son, "Sure, we can go hang out at the pet store and play with the dogs." When Chase picked up Toby, it was magic. But I figured all puppies were magic so I asked them to bring us a different dog. It wasn't the same.
I still remember when we brought Toby home and he tried to nurse on Casey. (Totally freaked poor Casey out.) And when I told John how much the dog cost. (I felt vindicated because though I put him on the credit card we got a check from a freelance gig the next day for the same amount.)
Toby was shy, quirky and nervous. But he was also sweet, loving and always interested in everything. He hated to sleep for fear he would miss something, and would often drift off with his nose holding his head up so he wouldn't actually be laying down.
He wanted so much to be the alpha--and actually took joy in making Mia squeal or chasing the birds out of the yard. Those were big accomplishments for such a little dog.
I couldn't believe it when I came home last night and wasn't greeted by him at the doorway.
Oh little Toby. You are missed.