RIP, Scully

I euthanized my 14-year old Weimaraner yesterday.  Then went over to a friend's house with the young whippersnapper (10 year old) Duncan and we held a wake for her, with my S.O. joining us after work. 

It was a hard decision I spent 5 days agonizing over.  And spent all those days saying goodbye -- taking her to the neighbors field to hunt through the grass for voles and moles, letting her eat the homemade, high protein food I finally made (when I ran out of the dry food over the weekend) for her and Duncan's enjoyment, crying whenever I saw her weeble-wooble down the front porch stairs with increasing frequency as the inoperable fibrosarcoma tumor grew and displaced her organs.  

I'll tell y'all the story of how I acquired my grey-ghost, back in 1998, when I lived in Salem, Oregon.  I lived with a guy for a little over two years too long.  I knew as soon as I moved in with him it was a mistake but it never seemed to be a good time in his life to bring it up, as he was sorta a drama queen.

I knew the relationship was over when I started fantasizing of trading in the boyfriend for a dog, because of the unconditional love a dog would give me.  And I knew, going into a relationship with a dog, that I would be paying all his or her bills from the get go and wouldn't be disappointed when he or she didn't come up with their half of the monthly bills.

So at work, I saw a picture of a small grey puppy for sale, a puppy with these huge ears flopping down to her shoulders and fell instantly in love.  I bought the dog and then spent a month trying to find a place to live which would let me move in with a soon to be 60 pound pooch.

I never regretted that decision, despite her terrible twos and the shoes, CDs and blankets I lost to a mouthy dog,  which was much easier to deal with than a secretive boyfriend who didn't pay his share of the bills.

I'll miss you, Lumpy.