Loss
As of today, I'm less one pet. Milhouse would've been 10 years old in February. Shortly after I got to school he started having trouble walking. An abscess in his leg ruptured and then they went in and tried to surgically remove whatever was left. There was a huge hole in his right rear leg and he had to wear a one of those plastic lampshades to keep him from bothering the wound. He continued to have problems walking and the vets at the emergency clinic said they thought it might be a spider bite. He started having seizures in his sleep and this morning he had trouble moving when he woke up. My dad carried all 110 lbs of him to the car and took him to the vet where they said there was nothing they could do but let him go.
We always made fun of him for being such a vocal dog--he whined and cried for the entire carride home from the breeder in Lancaster when we got him as a puppy. If you got up from the couch or looked like you were considering leaving the room he'd pace and talk and jabber and cry.
I remember the first night we got him when he passed out on the living room floor and spent the entire night farting from his new food. I also remember how he used to be carsick when he was younger and he puked all over the leg of my blue corduroy overalls in the backseat of my dad's old car. He also peed on my sister, Kim, on the way to picking up our sister, Kelly, from a softball game.
We joked that he was a priest in another life because he loved to corner and hump all of the little boys in our family.
I can't imagine my dad's house or the Poconos house without him. I hope they wait until I come home for Thanksgiving to get a new puppy.