We had to put our beloved Golden Retriever, Brewster, down today. For the past 6 weeks he's been getting thinner and thinner and eating less and less. When the vet came today he said that Brew looks like a cancer patient; we had thought that's what it was. We didn't want to put a 12 1/2 year old dog through that so we thought it best to let him go. There's no telling how long he would have kept up and suffering more and more.
Here is Brewster with our 23lb (yes, 23lbs!) cat Perry. They were both the same color and sometimes if Perry was sleeping right up against Brewster it was hard to tell he was there.
Who will look at me intently while I'm eating my dinner? Who will drool on the floor when I feed him a cookie or snack? Who will whine from downstairs that he wants to come up if Jim and I are napping and he's still downstairs? He would have to be prompted to come up, he wouldn't do it on his own. Who will run off down to the creek if I'm outside with him and turn my back for a second? Who will find the grossest carcass and sniff at it and lick it and eat it? No, it won't be my spouse Jim. I'm going to miss that wonderful dog.