There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brother and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
- Rudyard Kipling
Our dog, Dominique, went to doggy heaven two years ago this past Wednesday. I still think about that time from two years ago with much emotion. The last month before we put her down was probably the saddest time of my life.
I try not to dwell on that last month. Instead, I try to focus on the nearly fourteen happy years we spent together.
Yup, we did everything wrong with our "baby-baby". She: slept in our bed (often under the covers), begged for (and got) table scraps, used the furniture as her own, turned into a "junkyard dog" whenever she had to go to the vet, and...pretty much just lived her life with us wrapped around her little dewclaws (which we had to trim - one at a time - when she was asleep, by the way, lest we have our hands chomped off!). Even with her nasty smelling breath...and farts (probably from all those table scraps), the fur all over the place, the stubbornness, and the defiance...
Even with all that...
...the unconditional love she gave us was worth every little flaw she had, and I would live those (almost) fourteen years again.
No, Mrs. TBF, I'm not ready to get another dog...at least not yet.
You see...King has earned his place as the king of the house, and he has proclaimed that it shall remain so until his final breath.