(no subject)
So Friday morning I call my dad to celebrate his being alive one year after his heart attack. Friday afternoon he calls to tell me my dog has in the course of pretty much several hours gone from seeming completely healthy to having a bloated belly and problems breathing. They took her for tests Saturday, Monday, and today. I was really hoping that they all they would have to do was take out her spleen, but from the xray, there's no point in even operating. The only thing to do is make her comfortable for the next week or month while she dies.
I'll really miss her (all 115 pounds). She lives with my parents, not me, but I've always been her human. If I ask if she's happy to see her Camille, I get a giant tail wag and my nose licked. She still brings me a toy when I come over because she remembers that when she was a puppy I'd bring her her toys that she tended to hide in my room. I can't say 'pie', 'squirrel', a family member's name, or hundreds of other words in a casual conversation without Spitfire getting excited. I could go on and on with things like that. I wouldn't give up all these good memories to not feel what I feel now. But it's still hard. :(
I'll really miss her (all 115 pounds). She lives with my parents, not me, but I've always been her human. If I ask if she's happy to see her Camille, I get a giant tail wag and my nose licked. She still brings me a toy when I come over because she remembers that when she was a puppy I'd bring her her toys that she tended to hide in my room. I can't say 'pie', 'squirrel', a family member's name, or hundreds of other words in a casual conversation without Spitfire getting excited. I could go on and on with things like that. I wouldn't give up all these good memories to not feel what I feel now. But it's still hard. :(