Not the best of days

Today was supposed to be all smiles and cheerfulness; the family was going to get together and have a birthday party for Brontë, complete with cake, ice cream, presents, candles, and singing.

Before all of that could happen, though, I had a piece of my heart broken. I went out this morning to feed and water the critters, and discovered that my old German shepherd, D.O.G., had died in the night. She was an old dog --  I'd had her for something like seven years, and she was probably three or four when I got her -- so this wasn't altogether surprising. She'd been moving slower lately, and she'd been a little off her feed. But it was still a sad thing for me.

She'd put up with a lot before I got her, and to tell the truth she kind of put up with a lot of stuff from me. I probably didn't spend as much time as I could have, or should have, playing with her...but she never complained about things (and anyone who thinks that, just because a dog doesn't have human-level intelligence, they can't complain has never had one before). She was just one of the sweetest creatures I'd ever met; I don't think she was actually capable of harming another animal. Sure, at my old house before I got married, she'd chase off all the squirrels, but I don't think she'd have hurt one of them had she been capable of catching one.

I'm one of the more sentimental guys you're likely to meet. I invest a lot of my emotion in the people and things around me that are important to me. D.O.G. wasn't just a pet; she was a part of my family, and her death leaves an empty space in my heart. It's been easier to take her death than it has been the death of some of my other critters in the past, because I have my beautiful (and likewise very sentimental) wife to hold on to, and my beautiful daughter to smile at me and make me feel happy again. They've both been such a blessing to me, and especially today.

Rest in peace, D.O.G. You've earned it.