Monday, June 23, 2008

Poor Reba

Most of you have known me long and well enough to know that my first dog's name is Reba. She's about 15 now and she's in really bad shape. Today we found out she hasn't been keeping food down and then this evening she wouldn't even eat a hot dog ( the only thing she would eat at all). Later on today (my tomorrow due to the late hour) we are going to have her put down. We don't know if she's in pain, but we do know she's suffering. I'm very sad because I can still remember when she would fit in the palm of my ten-year-old hand. Daddy lived in a trailer at the time and it had AC vents on the floor. About the size of a Disney VHS. She would lay on those all summer. When she got bigger, all that would fit was her head, but that was good enough for her. I'm going to miss her very much. She will have been a wonderful part of my life, but at least I will be able to be there for her in her last few moments. Part of me hopes she passes in the night so that it will at least be natural. The other half believes that that might involve pain and I don't want her to have to go through that. In a perfect world, the second we start to die we'd already be in our better place. An argument to that would be what a girl in basic once said "From the second we're born...we start to die." Sorry, it's late as usual. You know I started this about two hours ago and then got distracted. I've really got to start doing this before work too, because unless something as dramatic as Reba happens, all I want to talk about is the petty childishness of everyone (including one manager) that I work with. By the way I'm going to this nursing home up the street tomorrow to apply for a job. Wish me luck. Gotta go to bed. Hugs and Kisses!!!!!!!!!!

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