With Champagne and Strawberries and an Angel Food Cake

I am saving a photo montage for a darker day, but never let it be said I don't respond to my public. hee hee. Here is Putter, in his younger glory, though at 8 years old he can't be considered an old man, especially against his older brother George topping the neighborhood doggy birthdays at 14.

We picked up the steroids and some pain medication if needed to keep Putter comfortable. It's hard to believe he is even under the weather when you see us walking around the neighborhood. He is every bit full of bounce and excitement as ever. But we do see a sharp decline already. He really hasn't eaten in the past two days, and I will spare you the other gory details of bodily functions, but suffice it to say we know the end will be near.

Naturally it is extremely sad that this is happening, you don't expect such a thing in a dog under 10 years old. It is so odd, knowing he is so ill, and just basically waiting for "the moment" to come when we know it is no longer merciful to prolong his suffering. I hope at this moment that his life is could not be described as suffering. Not only would I not prolong that, I will do my best to prevent him from reaching the suffering stage. That being said, we of course are living each moment to the fullest with Putter. There are hugs and snuggles, an extra nibble of table food here and there, a rawhide bone, etc. I am looking at each moment, wondering if it will be his last experience of something. Will he ever have another rawhide bone? Will he make it to another walk? Will he be there for me when I get home? I wish I could throw a Putter celebration party. I wish I could gather all of those who have ever been touched by his special spirit. Anyone who has ever been contacted by those liquid brown eyes. Anyone who has known Putter at all, to come and see him, and celebrate him now. Give him an extra rub, a scratch, love. Like a funeral, but...before. Maybe that's what I should plan for myself someday. What's the point in doing it...after. Come around and celebrate before. There could be wine, beer, Milkbones....(You know, at Putter's party that is.)

So I'll ask you. Whether you know Putter or not... whether you have ever had this gentle soul share a room with yours... whether you have ever learned what it means to learn to trust from someone who clearly had to learn the hard way... please keep Putter in your thoughts these next few days, as I firmly believe that is all we will have left.

I will try to post another photo of Putter, perhaps tomorrow, to keep the spirit alive. In the meantime, happy, healthy, pawprints to us all.