Love ‘em, and hate this.  So, so very much.

The last dog, the final puppy, has gone on to that field of butterflies in the sky.

Likely held on too long, did not want to let her go.  Just selfish.

Cancer roiling through those bowels.  At the end, her back and skull bones were poking through while her belly was swollen like a watermelon.

Sunday she asked me, let me know she was ready.  How did she do this, you (Other Person You) ask?  After spending most of her days in her furbed in front of the heater, she got up and followed me … not to come inside, but to implore me with her eyes. 

Every good pet parent knows the look. 

Sigh.

She did not cry tho’, and her appetite and poops were righteous until the end. 
But it was time, past time, honestly.  The vet was great, said never know the time until you do. 

Sigh. 

Two shots … one to put her to sleep, and the other to send her on.  Died with a cute little blerp. 
This is puppy #4 for me … Half can’t handle it, would rather hear the aftermath than experience the actual event.

Half:  “Where’s [the dog]”?

other half:  “Gone on with the other puppies.”

Half:  “Oh.  [new topic]”

Not to make excuses but to make excuses, Half is not cruel or dismissive, just … everybody ain’t able. 

Half is good with the finances, keep roof over all heads … other half handles, well, the stuff Half either can’t, or simply won’t, or is disinclined.

Which is fair.  Marriage is all about compromise. 

Well, mostly.  That, and snark.  Lots and lots of snark, the occasional rolled eye.   

The debt humans owe to our furry, fun, fabulous friends …?  Forever, perpetual, and partially paid. 
We don’t deserve them.  Gonna miss that dog.  {Ecclesiastes 9:4}