He was such a good boy

We had to put Ruger down today. He was my step dog. When I moved in with Rick and saw Ruger's crazed behavior and pink lipstick, I told Rick that dog needed to be neutered. We had pretty heavy discussions, which ended in Rick telling me that if I decided to neuter Ruger then he wanted no part of removing the poor boy's balls. Needless to say, I may not have bonded with Ruger from the get-go. I took that 80 pound dog to the vet and he left with the Cone of Shame. He didn't make eye contact with me until the 4th of July, where he emphatically jumped into my lap and hid his head in my nether regions until the booms stopped, which was well into the wee hours of the morning. Hey, we live in a rural area and people like their guns and illegal fireworks.
Ruger, ironically named for the German gun (he was  German Shorthair Pointer), was indeed gun shy. His nickname became "Tailgate" after a botched attempt at duck hunting with the fellows. The first gunshot found Ruger bee-lining it to the sanctuary of Rick's truck, the only hiding place happened to be under the tailgate. We also fondly called him "Snoot Neuton" and "Big Boy." Ava's first word was "Ruger" and her first sentence was (spoken in inflection) "Ruger. Here big boy" when we went outside in the morning. For the past few months, she would feed Ruger his kibble pellet by pellet. He would puke after, but that dog would not refuse his kibble.
This last week, he had particularly pukey behavior. This dog was a total pansy. He had a very weak constitution, so puking it up was nothing new. Oh, another nickname for him was "Twinkle Toes" because he did a lot of tap dancing. It was pretty funny for me, knowing how much Rick loved his dog and how he was just not a manly dog at all. But the great thing about really good dogs is that the love is unconditional both ways. So anyway, back to my point. I became really attached to Ruger once Sophia was born. In my new housewife domestic diva role, we have created quite a routine around Ruger. It was a very quiet afternoon today, let me tell you. I don't think one fully realizes the impact of an animal until they are no longer with us.
Yesterday he refused food. Even bacon. We called the vet and had the discussion about the "What if's" which is a deeply depressing discussion. The vet evaluated him and gave us two options, with a caveat that if it were her dog, the quality of life he may have in the next week would be sub par. With the heavy burden of the decision in our court, I cowardly announced, "It's ultimately Rick's decision because it's really his dog." Let me tell you, Rick hated to make the decision. But it was the best. Ruger went peacefully at home, surrounded by us and our words of encouragement. He was a really good boy. I am going to miss this dog.