Another death
My mom called me tonight to tell me that they took Ungo to the vet today to have him put down. He was 15, which is a pretty good age for a dog his size. He hadn't really been "my dog" since mid 2008. Really, he was my brother's dog. Still, he always recognized me and was pleased as punch to see me when I would visit Arkansas, no matter how many years since he'd seen me last. And he was such a happy, good-natured soul.
