There Was A Dog

 We had to say goodbye.

We didn't want to.

We had to.

For over fifteen years you have been one of the family.

 Sir Charles, the bulldog, had to leave us last year.

We still miss "Chally-Too Phat."

Now we're going and have to live without you as well...

so you can be well, again.

You were chained to a tree before you first came to live with us.

Now you're chained to our hearts.

This was your equally handsome father, Boss.

You were the result of his one night (afternoon) stand.

...Oops.

You lived the first year of your life chained to a tree. It was a hot Georgia summer.

Talk about the dog days of summer.

Then we got Ziggy.

Now you're fifteen. Charlie was almost fourteen when he died and Ziggy just turned seven.

We've never had a more loyal or humble dog.

You started to go blind before you were seven years old. Your father (Boss) did as well.

It was genetic.

You adapted like it was nothing. You knew the house, yards and lay of the land. We never rearranged the furniture or left a chair pushed out from the table.

Then after you went totally blind, the dog fights started.

Charlie was a brat who's bark was worse than his bite...and he would lay in the middle of a doorway or middle of a room, or any other terrible choice of a place to plop down. Then when you'd bump into him,  he would elicit that gravelly, mean sounding growl,which he could not back up, in the very least.

As Tim once said:

"Ham never started a dog fight, but he always finished one."

Then we uprooted and moved you to Florida, to a house, yard and climate totally foreign to you.  It didn't take much getting used to, it was the size of a sardine can  (including the yard).

Then almost a year ago, we uprooted you once again and moved you to our new/old forever home.

It's been a tough move for you...I know.

We all know.

The yards are massive and totally strange to you. Plants, palms, oak trees and cacti are every where, in every part of the yard. Flower beds and vines cover the entire perimeter as well as right next to the house.

It's been really stressful on you...

and I am so, so sorry you are hurting.

We took Ham outside the other day...per his recent ritual.  He eats, goes out in the morning, sleeps for about ten hours, then goes out again to do his business and is back to snoring after a bumbling, now stumbling walk around the perimeter of the inside of the house.

That's no life for a dog who used to do this, on a daily basis:

We took him out the other day and he couldn't even stand up while he attempted to relieve himself.

It was humiliating.

He doesn't deserve that.

The mobile vet is coming in the morning to give Ham his wings back so he can soar again.

Nobody puts our Baby in a corner.

Not any more.

We've gone back and forth about when it was going to be time to do it, for way  too long... and has now ended up being not soon enough.

That's not fair to Ham.

He totally deserves every ounce of dignity we can afford and allow him to have...and we almost let him down, to make ourselves feel better, by simply having him around for us.

Humans are selfish.

 Dogs are selfless.

Once we bring them into our home and lives, they have to rely on us for every single thing, every single day, every single time.

And never complain about when or if, they even get it, at all.

What a concept to live by.

I've always had a dog and it has always made me  better person.

True story.

"Out of the mouths of babes."

Oh Ham.

It breaks our hearts to let you go, and we feel awful about making you suffer, at all.

Our bad.

It's hard to let a piece of yourself go.

Especially such an intricate, seemingly vital part.

Rest easy Big Fella.

You will be sorely missed.

Til next time,

COTTON