GOODBYE MY SWEET SWEET PITCHY BOY
Yesterday Eric and I said goodbye to our sweet dog Pitch. The cancer took hold far faster than we had anticipated and Pitch told us it was his time to go. Below are a few photos i took on Pitchy's last day with us. My friend Cait kissing him goodbye before she had to go to work, my parents, and their dog Josie (Pitch's best friend), saying their farewells. And Pitchy's final resting place down at Eric's farm.
Thanks again for all your kind words when I had first learned of Pitch's diagnosis.
Below is a letter, more of a eulogy, that Eric wrote and emailed to all of Pitch's biggest fans. . . I think it's the perfect description of his life and what he meant to us.
I’m sad to tell you, but today molly and I made the decision to help our beloved pitch go to sleep for good. His was a surprisingly fast descent, something which I think we’ll be grateful for when this initial shock and grief wears off, and we can see this day through less teary eyes.
Pitch was an extraordinary dog. If you’re reading this letter, than my guess is that you knew that. He had that rare mix of pure kind gentleness that bordered lethargy at many times, but with that slight stalking, feral streak that he could spark in an instant (particularly if you were a squirrel, skunk or deer), which I like to credit to his short stint as a stray in the mean streets of south Carolina. Pitch was at once the dog who would gingerly lick icecream from a baby, and in the next instance, would battle to the death with a woodchuck on the farm. He was a loyal dog. He was a calm dog. He was a wild dog. He was so much fun. He was our best friend.
Pitch had a quick run of prostate cancer. In the end, molly and I decided that while he might live a few more days, we wanted to see our pitch, the most dignified, independent and courageous dog we know, go to sleep while he was still a dog we knew. Due to the pressure from his enlarged prostate, he could no longer control his ability to go to the bathroom, he was fatigued constantly, and that joie de vivre that pitch’s life was marked by, had faded. It was time to let him go, and he let us know that.
Again, if you’re reading this, then you knew pitch. And if you knew him, you probably loved him. And I want to thank you for that. That’s what’s giving me comfort right now. Pitch was a greasy fleabag of bones when I found him at the human society. He got lucky, as he was just one of a few dogs taken from a high-kill shelter and brought up here where there are less strays to adopt. He could have just as easily died in a pound as a puppy. Though he was my ward, I think that together, through all of the love and our shared experiences with you friends, we gave pitch a life that most people would be jealous of. Together, we saw to it that pitch’s life was the best that any dog could have. So thank you. We love you.
Pitch will be buried down at the farm, where he can chase the deer out of the carrots forever. Again, thanks for your love and kind words. Though we’ll miss our companion, we know that we’ve got all of you out there….
Eric and Molly