Our family has 3 dogs. In a previous life (before kids), these were our children. We did everything with them. It was really actually pathetic, and I admit that I should probably of been sending money to kids who needed to do things like EAT rather than luxurying up the life of my pups.
Oh well, we all make mistakes. Of the 3 dogs, our first dog Bobo has always been nearest and dearest to my hearts. (Dear children, don’t get any ideas, you are all loved equally.) He was our first pup that we stumbled upon at a shelter a week before we were married. We picked him up when he was “ready” at 6 weeks shortly after our wedding. He’s a poodle-terrier that wants nothing but love – and occasionally food and water.
While the kids love all of the dogs, Bobo is the one they play house with. He’s mellow and will do anything for attention. He has amazing talents of begging for what seems like forever and can sing and break windows with his screech.
Bobo is now 77 (11 years human). The last few months he’s been having seizures but he snaps right out of them. While usually he’s shaken up post-seizure, he’s usually fine. Tonight, as I was sleeping I heard this sound which I thought was a dying battery in a smoke detector – nope, not that lucky. It was poor Bobo – yelping and crying. Poor thing didn’t stop the yelping for an hour.
I have come to the conclusion that Bobo’s life left is short. He’s not healthy and pain is the last thing I want for him. It’s 3:36 am and I hear him whimpering. Maybe its the silly pregnancy hormones, or maybe its just my love for my furry mutt but this rips me up.
Hoping we have a little bit more time with his crooked smile before we have to say good-bye.
BTW – blog post FAIL. I hate gloomy posts!
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