My First Dog

As fun as our Vegas weekend was, there is a bit of tragedy.  Friday evening, well into our arrival and midway through dinner, I was informed that our family dog, Frankie had a stroke at some point during the day.  He could barely walk, didn't recognize my parents, and couldn't even see anymore.  As my parents took him to the vet, they could see there was very little option left to them, but out of love, they decided to wait and see if he could recover.

I had known, he was sick for a long time, as he had congestive heart failure.  He had been gaining quite a bit of weight back and seemed to be doing very well.  He even had a lot of energy the last time we got to visit him and was even barking louder than usual.  Needless to say, this was very unexpected. 

Saturday morning, I get the phone call that he had suffered what the veterinarian thought were numerous smaller strokes during the night.  He couldn't walk and could barely lift his head.  I can't even imagine how he looked and how sad my parents must have been when they saw him that morning and part of me is glad I wasn't there to witness him so weak.  That same trip to the vet really left my family with no other choice but to end his suffering.  My dad said he was there when the doctor gave him the injection.

I don't know that I could have been that strong.

He passed while lying comfortably on the table.  As small and grey as he had been for the last few years.  Quiet. 

We're going to plant a tree for him, I do not know where.  But wherever it is, I hope it grows as large as the size of his spirit.