Sweet Doggy

My phone rang at 12:01 this morning, which is about the time I am usually half-awake debating over whether to get up and pee. Getting up and peeing always wins but I keep trying to argue both sides.

Anyhoo, it was Dr. Moo calling, crying so hard I could barely understand her. She'd just put Tess the Wonder Hound, who had only three short days ago wiped her eye boogers off in my armpit, to sleep. Tess had gotten sick, then sicker, quickly, as older doggies do (she was 13)and had been crying out to Dr. Moo from her perch on the luxurious, gigantic doggy bed Little Brother and Sister-in-Law had given her for Christmas.

It was a good death, just Dr. Moo and Tess (well, and Chloe Claws the bipolar kitty who kept asking for a brushin'). "I'll never have another dog like that," Dr. Moo told me. And she's right. Tess, giant pain in the ass though she was, was kind of a savior for my sister in her early days in Vermont - she was there first. Before the move into town, before the solid group of friends, before the great boyfriend, there was Tess and Dr. Moo. And that's who was there at the end.

Rest in peace, sweet doggy. And thanks for being there for my sister.