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Good Dog

My dog is thirteen. Old for a dog her size. She's still in pretty good shape, but I know there isn't that much longer for her.

She's mostly blind. Mild arthritis has set in, and yesterday the vet told us she needs a very minor surgery to help clean out a ruptured abscess.

This dog has been such a blessing to me. Taking care of a puppy forced me to get out and talk to people, to pull me out of the apartment and into the neighborhood. The good parts of my shoddy social skills have developed in part from the small talk that comes from taking a dog for a walk. The people I've known the longest in the neighborhood, I've met through my dog.

She's the first dog that I'll have from beginning to end. I hope when it's time for her to go, it's sudden, and brief, and she doesn't suffer. As cold and practical as I am in most situations, I can't bear deciding when to end her life.

Reader Comments (1)

I met you through Jenna! This post made me cry, but when she does need to leave this world, Morgan is waiting for her!


November 15, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterCate Tyson

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