This is a photo of my parents' dog, Lucky. My mom had to put her down yesterday. Lucky had a large tumor pressing on her digestive tract. This made it impossible for her to keep food down or drink water. Keeping her around would’ve been prolonging the agony. Although it would've been ideal if all this didn't happen just as my dad was boarding a plane to India, my mom did the right thing.
Lucky was 14 years old, which is a good, long life for a dog. She was a Jack Russell Terrier who could dig almost her entire body underground in her younger days. My mom and dad really loved her. So did I.
I can't say Lucky was a friend to many because she snapped at almost everyone she didn't know well. In this regard, she epitomized the old adage about the risks of petting strange dogs, but Lucky always had a sweet, docile disposition around me. I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but it made me feel special to be let inside her very small bubble of confidants. I’m going to miss her.
Posts
2 comments:
Condolences to you and you folks, Greg. Most dogs are some of the best people I know.
What David said. 14 years is a long life for a dog, but it's still way too short.
Post a Comment