Another goodbye
Losing one beloved dog in a year is a lot. Losing two, just makes the year even worse than it would be.
Gypsy had nothing going for her when she was dropped off at the HSSC except the sweetest disposition and a constantly wagging tail.
She was listed as a rottweiler/ridegeback mix, 12 years old, covered in fleas, not spayed with a thin coat and horrible breath.
She came in February, and after two weeks of watching her lay in her kennel, I simply could not allow her to not live the rest of her life in a cage. Every time you spoke to her, the tail would go thump, thump, thump and she would raise her head and look at you to see if you were going to take her outside.
Being that I have a thing for discarded senior dogs, she came home with me after an introduction to the king of the household, Junior. She quickly showed him she would be queen and took over his bed, his couch and anything else he laid claim to.
She was a lazy dog, as many hounds are unless they are working, and loved to lay on her bed and watch the world go by out the window.
After Junior died, she has tolerated Buzz for the past 6 months and even attempted to play a tad bit, but you could tell she was slowing down. When she stopped eating last week, I knew something was wrong. Then she swelled up like a balloon and the vet took x-rays. He sent them off and the wait began. On Tuesday, the news was all bad. She had a huge tumor in her stomach which had metastasized to her lungs. She was not in any pain yet, but was more and more uncomfortable with the swelling. The decision to have a beloved pet put to sleep in anything but easy. I had a friend tell me something which made a lot of sense to me. "I would rather have them go easy a week too early, than suffer for one day to long." Go easy my beautiful, old, fat hound dog. I will miss you.
Gypsy had nothing going for her when she was dropped off at the HSSC except the sweetest disposition and a constantly wagging tail.
She was listed as a rottweiler/ridegeback mix, 12 years old, covered in fleas, not spayed with a thin coat and horrible breath.
She came in February, and after two weeks of watching her lay in her kennel, I simply could not allow her to not live the rest of her life in a cage. Every time you spoke to her, the tail would go thump, thump, thump and she would raise her head and look at you to see if you were going to take her outside.
Being that I have a thing for discarded senior dogs, she came home with me after an introduction to the king of the household, Junior. She quickly showed him she would be queen and took over his bed, his couch and anything else he laid claim to.
She was a lazy dog, as many hounds are unless they are working, and loved to lay on her bed and watch the world go by out the window.
After Junior died, she has tolerated Buzz for the past 6 months and even attempted to play a tad bit, but you could tell she was slowing down. When she stopped eating last week, I knew something was wrong. Then she swelled up like a balloon and the vet took x-rays. He sent them off and the wait began. On Tuesday, the news was all bad. She had a huge tumor in her stomach which had metastasized to her lungs. She was not in any pain yet, but was more and more uncomfortable with the swelling. The decision to have a beloved pet put to sleep in anything but easy. I had a friend tell me something which made a lot of sense to me. "I would rather have them go easy a week too early, than suffer for one day to long." Go easy my beautiful, old, fat hound dog. I will miss you.
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