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Guest
Almost 14 years after a chance meeting in an elementary school parking lot, I had to put down one of my best friends. Casey was one of a kind. A mutt that, best anyone could tell over the years, was a mix of border collie and corgi, she was equal parts sweet and heartwarmingly oblivious. Until today, when a cancerous mass burst in her abdomen, she was so full of life. An outdoor dog who lovingly put up with years of being cooped up in apartments as I drifted aimlessly through years of Bohemian singlehood, she never lost the joy of going out for a simple walk or a trip around the yard. She was the last of a litter being sold out of a pickup truck in small-town Arkansas. She was given to me for free. Our time together was priceless.
I would be remiss before I ended this post if I did not thank my wife, who quickly grew to accept and love Casey. There was a time not long ago that my dogs (Casey's sister is still her surly self at 13) were the only reasons I had to wake up every day. That's changed in a number of wonderful ways. As tough as it was to lay on two blankets in a sterile, drab emergency vet room and hold Casey for the last time, sobbing, Casey's mom was right there with me.
Thanks, baby. You're the best thing that ever happened to Casey, too.
I would be remiss before I ended this post if I did not thank my wife, who quickly grew to accept and love Casey. There was a time not long ago that my dogs (Casey's sister is still her surly self at 13) were the only reasons I had to wake up every day. That's changed in a number of wonderful ways. As tough as it was to lay on two blankets in a sterile, drab emergency vet room and hold Casey for the last time, sobbing, Casey's mom was right there with me.
Thanks, baby. You're the best thing that ever happened to Casey, too.