If only it were a happier day.
We have to put the pup down this week. The rose and the furball (coincidentally, named Rose--Pixie Rose, named by a girl who got the puppy for her 11th birthday) shared our yard for the past 13 years.
I think we'll keep the two together, side-by-side, in the garden.
Update: Hey, wait a minute! That was yesterday; things are different today.
The rose got clobbered by the thunderstorms.
But, The pup's pain and travail has shown a surprising, nay, amazing remission. Her problem is a bunch of metastatic tumors that have been blocking all the gastric and other plumbing for days.
While mostly ignoring food and straining a bit (some results), she was uncommonly frisky today--even chased a rabbit out of the yard and worried a chipmunk hiding under the steps. Tail wags almost full time.
If the weather is OK, we'll walk the long trail with her at Lapham Peak tomorrow. She's not likely to recover; but, for now, she looks to be enjoying a dog's life w/o discomfort.
This is a dog who has never shown a lazy, cantankerous, obstinate, aggressive, challenging, supercilious. smelly, growling, smart-ass or bored attitude since day one. Anybody in this family who ever felt funky, depressed, alienated, really down, excessively up, high/low, bored/wired, defeated, fired, under-appreciated, overly-confident, etc., has been on the receiving end of a firm tongue-lashing administered by the Pixie critter. This dog has a Class A licker-license and has never hesitated to use it.
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