On Missing My Dog


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I had my bad little dog put down on December 29th.

She was elderly and her breath stank and her arthritis made her grumpy and she had grown incontinent.

I held her in my arms in the vet’s office, her nose buried in the warm spot of the crook of my arm.

She always wanted her nose covered and warm.

The life slipped out of her, and along with it a bit of my heart.

Sometimes I miss Puppy so much my throat aches with the effort of unshed tears.



About S.

Reader, writer, talker, knitter, picture taker, tennis player, music lover, Southerner.
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