Farewell To My Dog

Yesterday morning, my sister (who is staying with us for a couple of weeks) notified me that my dog had been found passed away that morning. I always forget how old she was. She was born in the month of Novemeber, and I think we got her when I was 8. That would make her around 15 or 16 at oldest estimate. I pretty much grew up with that dog. Although poodles generally do not have the best doggy dispositions, this dog was the one of the best-natured ones with which I'd interacted.

I've classified this as "family," because there are no better labels to describe it, and I'm loath to create new labels. "Our life" labels will be used for those boring posts when we have nothing else to post, so we decide to post on what's going on in our lives those days.

I first started noticing her onset into senility a year or two or three into college. She would like playing fetch, as these dogs are prone to liking. Except I started noticing that if I threw, then let her go chase, she would have a hard time finding her Elmo toy. She was relying primarily on the location of where poor Elmo hit the ground to find him. As the college years went by, so did her hearing, body mass, and more of her eyesight.

I think it would've been harder on me if I had actually been home when this happened. And I think it would've been even harder if she had died unexpectedly early. Even harder if we had had to put her to sleep. And so I conclude this depressing post with some more pictures.

Might have to look harder to find her here. She's camouflaged to blend in with plush white living room couches that no one ever uses (that's my parent's living room)

Wow, look at that...I had lots of hair. This was probably taken around my senior year of high school, which was about 6 years ago.