I got a phone couple days ago from a crying sister. Apparently, my parents took the dog to the vet and he has a tumor on his throat. It's cancer and there is nothing that can be done. He's still walking around all happy go lucky though. So what does a person do? Put a happy dog down, or let it die slowly? I'm just glad I'm not there to see the little guy. I cried for about 3 weeks when I took home an orphaned kitten and it died on the third day that I had it. Then a few months later a coworker made a joke about me "killing that kitten" and I started crying again. So I'm very glad I'm far removed from this one. We've had that dog since 9th grade (I think). One night, when my dad was beating the crap out of me, after throwing me across the kitchen table, I took off out the back door. Barefoot. I just ran and ran and ran to get away. When I finally stopped to catch my breath, our bran new little puppy was barking at me. He had been at my heels the whole time. I remember hiding in alleyways and finally finding a friend from school's house to hide in. Of course, by my running away from the bastard, I was sure to get it even worse when I returned. I am sure I wouldn't have gone back to that house if I didn't have that pup. My dad and I didn't speak to each other again until Christmas Eve, when he had his heart attack. That was several months later. After his brush with death, he stopped being an old bastard.
This picture is from the first night we brought him home.
This is a picture from last winter.
