Thanks you guys. Bandido was a special dog. He was a Papillon and so loyal. I never thought I would fall in love with a dog so much, but he was just perfect. Somehow he injured his back. By the time we found him, his back legs were paralyzed. We went to a neurologist who basically told us the surgery was about 4,000 bucks with really a 20 percent chance. I didn't have 4K and 20 percent wasn't good odds. We asked them to keep him alive long enough for me to go get Robert at camp. The next day Bandido had recovered enough that they felt he could come home, but basically be crated and moved as little as possible.

Honestly we should have let him go then. He never fully recovered and was in serious pain. He did not like being crated so I carried him everywhere. Finally, we decided to have him put down, because he wasn't getting any better and the steroids and pain meds just weren't helping. Before I took the boys to school, I laid his travel crate in front of his crate so that he could maneuver on his own into it (and take his time while I was gone) because at that point, you couldn't even touch the poor thing without him crying in pain. He got right up and walked into the crate and laid down whereas any other time he became a raving mad dog at the thought of going to the vet. I took the boys to school and then went home and got him. I cried so hard all the way to the vet. I cried so hard at the vet that I had the receptionist crying and all the customers waiting. When she came to get him...I kissed him and told him to go home and jump in Jesus' arms. Pitiful little baby.


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