Posted by
daddontsk8 on Wednesday, February 28, 2007 9:43:58 AM
My dog died yesterday. Sunshine was a good dog, part lab, part pit bull. Full of energy, wonderful around children and always ready for some affection. She was a member of our family since the day before my wife and I married. My children were greeted by her cold, wet nose when they came home for the first time.
Last Fall, around Thanksgiving, she started limping. She would stumble, and occasionally fall down, with all the grace of a drunken bison. We thought she had perhaps broken a bone or sprained a joint, so we treated her for that. Her limp didn’t get any better, and by the first of the year, walking was a real chore for her. Shortly thereafter we learned she had cancer.
Yesterday, she fell down three or four times in the space of an hour, she was disoriented, and we think her kidneys were shutting down, because, despite tremndous fluid intake, nothing came out. We took the boys out of school and had her put down. My youngest son was with her as she breathed her last breath, my oldest sat in the waiting area trying not to cry. Yesterday afternoon was unusually quiet in our home. There is a hole in our home and it is shaped like a dog.
But this post is not really about Sunshine, but rather, it is about the depths of the human mind.
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