He's nothing but shaggy fur stretched over bone.
His eyes are cloudy.
His nose is dry and cracked as a riverbed in the desert.
He stinks.
But he's my dog.
He can hardly get up, much less walk, and often falls down the stairs.
The lightest nudge tips him over.
He leaves puddles and yellow spots on the floor and his bedding.
But he's my dog.
We got him thirteen, more like fourteen years ago: I still remember being chased around by him and his littermates.
The white mark on one hip that used to be shaped like a "B" for Beethoven has since become a "C." for Capehart.
And now, "Old Beethoven," is nearing the end.
We're taking him as soon as we can to the vet.
We probably should have done it a long time ago, but our hopes got the better of us.
"He's still eating well," We thought.
But enough is enough.
It's time to say good-bye.
So, Beethoven, the furry friend I've had since almost before I can remember,
my first pet, the one who's been there through good times and bad,
Good-bye.
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the random everyday chaos experienced by a young person in the twenty-first century
2 comments:
I'm sure you've already heard this before, but its better that he goes like this when he can't feel anything. Its not easy on the owner, but its easy on the dog. I know its hard losing a pet, especially one you've had as long as you've had him.
Also, you sure know how to make a guy tear up :')
-hugs- Aww, ah towwy. I didn't mean to make you cry, just wanted to vent my own. X_x
But yeah. I know it's easier this way, which is why we're doing it in the first place.
I'm sure I've said this, but I wanna make public that the day of Obey's appointment (next Wednesday) I won't be at school.
Also, I'll probably be in my own little bubble for the next few days after that, listening to music and ignoring the world, so yeah.
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