Typically, I post on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. They are always about writing, but today I will make an exception.
On Christmas Day our beloved dog, Cooper, grew ill, weak, and just not himself. By the next morning, we knew something was very wrong. A trip to the animal emergency vet revealed his spleen had ruptured, more than likely due to cancer or a tumor, and there was nothing we could do. He was bleeding internally and would be gone within 24 hours.
With very heavy hearts, we had to put him down.
My husband and I have been married for 9 1/2 years, and had our dog for eight of those. Though my husband had dogs all his life, he was my first.
He was an Australian Shepard/Border Collie Mix, adopted from a shelter, and by far one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever encountered. He could sneak out of a camping tent while we were asleep, open the sliding glass door when we didn’t move fast enough to let him outside, and once even kept would-be burglars at bay until the cops could arrive. And, he was the first one at the bathroom door when my water broke with my twins. My husband was sleeping, and I sent Cooper in to retrieve him. Later, my hubby would say he was woken up with urgent whining and a sloppy tongue on his cheek.
As if watching him take his last breath on the day after Christmas wasn’t hard enough, we then had to return to our home and tell our worried four-year old twins that Cooper wouldn’t be returning.
Our house, and our hearts, are quiet and sad.
I hope to see you back at my blog on Wednesday, where I will again post about writing.