Our dog died today. His name was Sundance and he was a good boy. He joined our family before my kids could even drive, and now he’s gone.
Sundance was the light of our lives. He was always ready to go out in the back yard and play, play, play. His favorite toy was a doggie frisbee. We’d throw it across the yard, and he’d tear across the yard like a rocket with a turbo charger and jump and catch it midair.
He was fast — you simply couldn’t throw his doggie frisbee so far that he couldn’t get there before it hit the ground. He was so fast, in fact, that he once caught a bird. He leaped and caught the fucking bird midair too! It was unbelievable. I could not believe my eyes.
About a year and a half ago, he was playing catch with my wife. She threw the frisbee thing like we’ve done thousands of times, and Sundance ran and lept and caught it before it landed, only he came down squirrelly and injured his back. Our veterinarian took x-rays, and advised us to limit his activity for a couple weeks. And he got better, but he never recovered all the way.
He struggled, off and on, over the next year or so, most days were good days, but like the rest of us who have reached a certain age, he had the occasional bad day, where he struggled on the stairs, or had difficulty getting up on the couch or bed.
We bought him a doggie step to help him get up and down from the couch and bought a linen chest to put at the foot of the bed to help him get up and down from the bed.
But about 6 months ago, he noticably started getting worse. His occasional bad day had become a pretty regular thing. After several veterinarian visits over a few months, our vet advised that his condition was degenerative, and that he wouldn’t be getting better.
For months now, my wife and I have been helping Sundance up and down the stairs — first, in front of the house, and then as his ability to climb the stairs further degenerated, in back of the house (there’s only 3 steps in back and about double that in front).
We bought dozens of throw rugs to cover the hardwood floors to make it easier for him to walk, and so that he could walk freely without slipping and falling. The last few days, he’s needed help even standing and walking.
My wife has been cooking his meals, morning and night, for weeks.
I don’t know why I’m writing all of this, except that I don’t know what else to do. I guess I just miss my friend.
Gone, but not forgotten.
The Case Against Donald Trump
The Editorial Board of the paper of record:
Precisely.
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