My dog died.

So about two weeks ago, I noticed that my dog wasn't eating. I had been feeding him a lot of people food, so I thought he might just be getting finicky. I waited for him to eat his dog food, but it wasn't happening. He also wasn't drinking his water from the dog bowl, but was drinking out of the toilet (which he normally didn't do) and from his big bucket outside. Anyway, I decided that I needed to take him to the vet. I had to wait a few days, because the vet schedule, and by the time I finally got him there he was lethargic even for him. He wasn't excited about milkbones or going on walks, or anything that he used to love. The vet checked on him and I found out why. He had a malignant tumor in his heart and lungs. It was so large that it was pressing on his trachea, which is probably why he couldn't eat or drink out of his bowl (I had been giving him lunch meat every so often, which he lifted his head to eat.) He had also lost eight of his fifty-eight pounds (they weighed him in February the last time he was in), but I didn't notice because he had his full coat. (The picture left is from August, when his summer buzz was beginning to grow out a little. I know how Swany wants to keep our anonymity, so I put a black bar over Firecracker Rover's eyes to hide his identity.)

Anyway, by the time the vet looks at him and x-rays his chest to find the tumors, he tells me that treatment is unlikely to do anything but prolong his suffering. That was the last thing I wanted, so I went to the vets and petted him while they put him to sleep.

The whole thing has been like getting grazed on the nuts. It starts off not too bad, but then the pain gets worse. I'm just now starting to get used to him not being around. I'm just now starting to get up in the morning and not worry about stepping on him. I'm just now starting to not think it's him every time I the zipper on my laptop bag jingle. He was already ten, but I was hoping that he'd live a little longer than he did.

My brother has chided me for "making too big a deal about it," but he has a family. My dog was my family. He was the closest thing to my own kid that I had (which I'm sure is not very close at all once you have the real deal.) Anywho, this house seemed too big with the two of us - now it seems ridiculous. I'm going to move to a new place soon. I'd already planned on it, but now it feels more urgent.

I just know that I'm going to miss him for a long time to come. He was my bud.