It’s a heartbreaking decision, one that everyone who has a pet faces at some point: The pet’s mortality.

Over my life, I’ve had many pets. Two in particular lasted a very long time. The first, we had to put down after some 12 years of life because his heart was simply giving out on him.

The other, we had for 15 and a half years and yesterday evening, we had to put him to sleep.

Oreo was given to us back then as a five or so month old ball of energy. He was named by my eldest daughter, who, along with my other daughter, loved him to pieces.

When we first got him, he would take me out on walks -he was the one guiding me– that took us around several blocks in the neighborhood. He was always a few steps ahead, darting this way and that and chasing after any stray lizard that had the gall to walk in front of him. He never caught them, but sure loved the chase.

As the years passed, he had certain health issues. His teeth were always crooked and weak. He would get most of them removed over time. When the teeth on the left side of his mouth were mostly gone, he began hanging his tongue off that side of his mouth… as you see in the above photograph.

The walks grew shorter. I distinctly recall the day we set out to do our regular multi-block walk but when we reached the edge of the first block, he slowed and stopped, looked up at me, and turned around to return home. That would be the last time we did one of our usual long walks.

Over the next few years, he slowed down even more, as any dog who reaches a very old age does. The now one-block walks became walks back and forth down our street. We no longer could use a neck collar as he pinched a nerve one day thanks to their use.

His favorite perch, which you see in the photograph above, used to be one he could jump from the floor to the couch to. No longer. We had to get him a small footstair to climb up to the couch and then up to the pillow.

Two weeks ago he had a strange episode which I thought was a muscle cramp. He stretched, then didn’t seem to stop stretching. His head turned back, and he howled in pain and dropped to the ground.

He seemed ok afterwards, but the fact was that this was the first sign of the bad things to come. Over the next few days, he had a couple more episodes like this, which I realized were seizures. Some were so strong he would lose control of his bowls.

His strength rapidly diminished. He could only walk a very short distance before being exhausted and run the risk of having another seizure. We took him to the vet and gave him medication for the pain, but in the last four days in particular it was clear he was on a rapid downward glide.

Yesterday, we left for a movie and when we returned home, he was on his feet, walking to us wagging his tail, but we realized he had just emerged from another terrible seizure and had laid -for who knows how long- in his own urine and defecation.

It was clear to us, even as it ripped our hearts, that he wouldn’t last much longer. By this point, he could barely walk and we feared leaving him alone for any length of time. His breathing was ragged, his strength almost non-existent. He was in bed most of the day and night, and we feared for him whenever he was up and walking, however short the distance.

We made the most difficult decision we could and took him in last night for his final ride.

In the end, Oreo lasted longer than most dogs of his breed. 15 and a half years is a very long time to live for any dog, and I know the joy he gave us -and I hope the joy we gave him- made up for his last few very rough days.

Here’s to you, Oreo.

You’ve earned your rest and you will be missed.