Pixel, Forever Loved.
In the end, the only thing more stubborn than Pixel’s desire to go on walks, was the tumor that prevented him from enjoying those walks to the fullest. We let Pixel go today, no longer able to operate on or alleviate the pain from cancer.
Pixel came to us 11 years ago as a foster.
He was insecure and clingy, having been rehomed multiple times in his one year of puppyhood. Just prior to becoming our foster, he had been sitting in the rescue’s kennel for close to three months as they were out of foster homes. We showered him with love & attention, and adopted him out to a family in Dallas. Heartbroken by giving him away, my husband said, “If he gets returned again, we’re keeping him.” As fate would have it, he did get returned within a week for not knowing how to swim (!!?!! he totally knew to swim!!), and of course, he became ours.
At first, Pixel was timid, constantly seeking us or Kuttu for company.
With time, he came into his own. A year after he joined our family, we had Ro. Pixel became the gentlest dog a baby could have. Ro would yank toys straight out of the mouths of Kuttu & Pixel, and they would both look at him with the quiet tolerance of older siblings. As Ro grew older, the dogs became his “brothers”, playing with him, licking him, and hanging out with him.
Pixel’s main job was to keep Ro’s bad dreams at bay. When Ro was 4, he woke up a few nights with nightmares, after which Pixel was moved into Ro’s room. It made all the difference in the world to have Pixel in there, and we only had one bad dream since. To his last day, Pixel went to sleep on Rohan’s bed, choosing that spot over all others in the house.
When Pixel was 9, we lost Kuttu to long term kidney failure. Pixel suddenly became the only dog, for the first time in his life with us. His presence was quiet and calming in the house. He enjoyed the solo attention he got from us, and matured quite a bit in the process. After two years of solo dog status, we rocked his world a little.
When we brought Nunchuk home, Pixel was initially aghast, but the two became bonded within just a few days. Pixel got younger and more energetic playing with the puppy.
During the day, the two started cuddling up on the floor, Nunchuk grooming Pixel. 
Meanwhile, in summer 2016, less than a year after Kuttu’s passing, we found a tumor growing on Pixel’s leg. It was a nerve sheath tumor, considered “benign” in that it would never metastasize. But nasty in that it has a 70% recurrence rate after surgery, and will continue to spread along the nerve (though technically not a met).
We first operated on Pixel in the fall of 2016. A year later, the cancer came back. We operated again in Dec 2017, this time not even able to get margins because there were three open lumps instead of a single encapsulated lump the first time. After the second surgery, the tumor came back within 6 months. We’ve tried to manage his pain and allow him to live as long as he was enjoying life. He would still wag his tail when the leash came out, though his walks were getting shorter and shorter. In the last 3 weeks though, the tumor bothered him enough that he started losing footing once in a while, and licked the lump raw. The pain meds weren’t working the way we hoped, and we made the call to put him down.
This past week, Nunchuk also sensed Pixel’s pain, and gently nuzzled him when they hung out.
It wasn’t easy to say when exactly to euthanize Pixel. He still wagged for the leash and curled up with Ro at night. He loved getting bots of salmon and cheese as special treats. I received a lot of advice from my friends on the futility of trying to time it right.
“There is rarely one right time, but rather a period of time when it’s neither too soon nor too late.”
We were definitely within the period of time. Well within it, and I didn’t want to poke out the other end when a stoic labrador actually starts showing his pain. It wasn’t too soon, and I didn’t want it to be too late.
Good night, my sweet Pixel. I hope we loved you well, kept you safe, and erased all the sad memories of your first year of abandonment. Thank you for helping us raise Ro, for keeping his nightmares at bay, and being the best older brother possible to Nunchuk. We love you. I hope you find Kuttu in the afterlife, and get to play with him again.
