Buddy's been gone over a year. Oct 9, I think, 2017, was the day he left us. He'd had 2 back surgeries in the year before that, and around Oct 7 he had obviously reinjured it. He couldn't walk again. He was in pain. He just stayed on his pillow and he didn't eat. I can't believe he was only 3 when he had the first surgery.
What a sweet dog he was.
He was the kind of dog that liked to sit at your feet. Maybe on them even. Definitely touching. Just a quiet presence kind of dog.
I keep his photo around. I like to see his face. I wish I had taken longer to say goodbye to him. I feel a little guilty. I told the kids about Buddy's back, and that he would have to go to the vet - and maybe I told them we couldn't afford another surgery. I'm not sure I spelled out exactly what that meant. And I took him to the vet on Monday morning while they were all at school.
I had my mom go with me.
Buddy peed on the vet tech when she took him out of the room to put in the IV. He couldn't control his bladder.
I thought I was ready. I thought he was ready. I felt relieved when he relaxed at first. And then he was gone so fast.
I wasn't ready.
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