A Long Time Coming
Most of you know my dog, Pokey- the fat little beagle who makes pig noises and loves everyone unconditionally.
Well, for the past few months, we've noticed a really horrible rash on her stomach. We took her to the vet, and they assumed it was allergies and prescribed her some medicine. About a month went by, and the rash got worse. Then it turned black, and Pokey started acting really weird. She would get nervous and pee at the most insignificant things, and she would growl at people. Mom took her back to the vet, and they put her on heavier medicine.
Yesterday we found out it was cancer, and talked about it for a long time. The treatment would cost three hundred dollars to start, and her meds would be an extra hundred each month. Pokey would never be healthy again, never able to run around and play as much as before. And her pain must have been unbearable...
Mom and I decided together that it would be best to let her go and die peacefully, rather than try to keep her alive and in pain. We let her eat a whole slab of beef, and hugged her, and then let the doctors put her to sleep. I haven't cried that much in a long time.
I loved my dog very much. I've had her since I was nine years old. Pokey was with me through all of my hardest times- my parents' divorce, and my near-death thyroiditis experience. She was the sweetest beagle in the world. I know she's happy and healthy now, somewhere where there's a big sofa she can shed all over, and an endless supply of people-food.
I'll miss you, girl.
Much love,
Tisbee
Well, for the past few months, we've noticed a really horrible rash on her stomach. We took her to the vet, and they assumed it was allergies and prescribed her some medicine. About a month went by, and the rash got worse. Then it turned black, and Pokey started acting really weird. She would get nervous and pee at the most insignificant things, and she would growl at people. Mom took her back to the vet, and they put her on heavier medicine.
Yesterday we found out it was cancer, and talked about it for a long time. The treatment would cost three hundred dollars to start, and her meds would be an extra hundred each month. Pokey would never be healthy again, never able to run around and play as much as before. And her pain must have been unbearable...
Mom and I decided together that it would be best to let her go and die peacefully, rather than try to keep her alive and in pain. We let her eat a whole slab of beef, and hugged her, and then let the doctors put her to sleep. I haven't cried that much in a long time.
I loved my dog very much. I've had her since I was nine years old. Pokey was with me through all of my hardest times- my parents' divorce, and my near-death thyroiditis experience. She was the sweetest beagle in the world. I know she's happy and healthy now, somewhere where there's a big sofa she can shed all over, and an endless supply of people-food.
I'll miss you, girl.
Much love,
Tisbee