Umm... yeah.
First of all, happy easter everyone. That's important. I am geniunely wishing you all a happy easter.
But, um.
Bingo died last night around 2:00 AM. Died on Easter.
I stayed up with him all night. He's been having sick shaking things on and off- you've probably heard me talking about it at school- and we think he's been having seizures, or possibly heart attacks. Mom and I stayed up with him in case he threw up, to clean up, only this time, unlike the last times, he didn't get better.
And he was making a recovery, too. Mom and I felt comfortable enough to go to bed around one. We slept out here, in case something happened, but he was breathing normally. Then he started whining, and a minute later he just... stopped.
It was fast, though. I've been worried that it was going to be long and hard, like it almost was four years ago. Bingo had serious liver disease, he was in and out of hospitals for around four weeks then. I almost wish he'd died then- I was ready then.
This time it was quick.
I'm mad, though. I've been telling Mom to take him to the vet ever since these shakes started, it's just that he's been getting better after each one.
He was doing so good yesterday, too. David came over to see New York pictures, and Bingo ran to the door barking when the doorbell rang. Bingo hasn't done that in at least six months, probably longer. Maybe even since before we moved.
So he's fifteen.
I never thought he'd die at home. I mean, I'm glad he did- he hates vets, and the cat was there.
I just keep on expecting to see him whenever I look at his bed. It seems so weird to not see him there, like we took out a piece of furniture or moved a wall.
I'm gonna stop now. I think I'm gonna put my poncho on. That honestly does work. I hate being sad.
But, um.
Bingo died last night around 2:00 AM. Died on Easter.
I stayed up with him all night. He's been having sick shaking things on and off- you've probably heard me talking about it at school- and we think he's been having seizures, or possibly heart attacks. Mom and I stayed up with him in case he threw up, to clean up, only this time, unlike the last times, he didn't get better.
And he was making a recovery, too. Mom and I felt comfortable enough to go to bed around one. We slept out here, in case something happened, but he was breathing normally. Then he started whining, and a minute later he just... stopped.
It was fast, though. I've been worried that it was going to be long and hard, like it almost was four years ago. Bingo had serious liver disease, he was in and out of hospitals for around four weeks then. I almost wish he'd died then- I was ready then.
This time it was quick.
I'm mad, though. I've been telling Mom to take him to the vet ever since these shakes started, it's just that he's been getting better after each one.
He was doing so good yesterday, too. David came over to see New York pictures, and Bingo ran to the door barking when the doorbell rang. Bingo hasn't done that in at least six months, probably longer. Maybe even since before we moved.
So he's fifteen.
I never thought he'd die at home. I mean, I'm glad he did- he hates vets, and the cat was there.
I just keep on expecting to see him whenever I look at his bed. It seems so weird to not see him there, like we took out a piece of furniture or moved a wall.
I'm gonna stop now. I think I'm gonna put my poncho on. That honestly does work. I hate being sad.