(no subject)
Last night Hugs died.
Hugs was the hateful furry little ball of Maltese that was my first inside doggy. He was to be 11 next month, which means I lived about 9 years of my life with this dog. He was like, my little brother. The last time I was there, I didn't pay much atttention to him. Anthony says he remembers me playing with him, but I don't remember that. Anyway, the comical thing is that even if I had wanted to pet him I couldn't, b/c as soon as you try to touch him, he would try to bite your arm off (often bringing blood if you weren't quick). He was a miserable little thing. But he was mine, and I loved him, and when I was younger we were actually pretty good pals. But he in no way, shape, or form make me want to become a vet tech. LoL, it wasn't until I moved out of living in the same house with that dog I began to love animals.
Another thing that hurts though is that I know that my parents must be devastated, for as devastated as you can get about a little dog. Anthony & I are leaving this morning for Myrtle Beach. Kind of puts a damper on the whole trip you know? I intend to have fun, but ... not without missing my Hugs. I wish I could physically be there to comfort mom & dad, dad especially (he was crying when he called), but I guess that a part of growing up is accepting you can't always be there.
Daddy said that Hugs just laid down & went to sleep. The only way to go, I guess. [Not that is was completely unexpected, he had been acting very sick all day.]
It's funny, why was I fool enough to think that Hugs just couldn't die? I'm still in a bit of shock. I told mom last week he prolly had a good 5-10 years left in him.
Le sigh.
Hugs was the hateful furry little ball of Maltese that was my first inside doggy. He was to be 11 next month, which means I lived about 9 years of my life with this dog. He was like, my little brother. The last time I was there, I didn't pay much atttention to him. Anthony says he remembers me playing with him, but I don't remember that. Anyway, the comical thing is that even if I had wanted to pet him I couldn't, b/c as soon as you try to touch him, he would try to bite your arm off (often bringing blood if you weren't quick). He was a miserable little thing. But he was mine, and I loved him, and when I was younger we were actually pretty good pals. But he in no way, shape, or form make me want to become a vet tech. LoL, it wasn't until I moved out of living in the same house with that dog I began to love animals.
Another thing that hurts though is that I know that my parents must be devastated, for as devastated as you can get about a little dog. Anthony & I are leaving this morning for Myrtle Beach. Kind of puts a damper on the whole trip you know? I intend to have fun, but ... not without missing my Hugs. I wish I could physically be there to comfort mom & dad, dad especially (he was crying when he called), but I guess that a part of growing up is accepting you can't always be there.
Daddy said that Hugs just laid down & went to sleep. The only way to go, I guess. [Not that is was completely unexpected, he had been acting very sick all day.]
It's funny, why was I fool enough to think that Hugs just couldn't die? I'm still in a bit of shock. I told mom last week he prolly had a good 5-10 years left in him.
Le sigh.