They're putting our dog down right now. I knew this would happen, and I'm not gonna say I didn't know it was gonna be this hard, because I know it's so much harder for so many others. A few tears, a few sobs--these never hurt anybody. I don't have a fancy photo montage or anything like that to commemorate his memory, and I won't sit here and say he was "the best dog ever" or "one of my best friends." I honestly didn't appreciate him as much as many dog owners appreciate their own dogs. He was just kinda there. But hey, I loved him. I'll miss him. I'll miss seeing his sorry butt sunbathing out on the lone patch of grass in our backyard, like nothing was wrong with the world--even towards the end, when he was getting real bad, he could still be seen at least once a day just enjoying life like nobody's business out in the sun. Just yesterday he was barking at a damn cat in the backyard. He showed me--no matter how little I payed attention to him, how little I gave him walks or cared to even play with him--he showed me that life was too good to fret about the small things. That no matter what our condition, or how bad we feel on one level, we can still be happy and live a pure existence.
But aside from all that philosophical mumbo-jumbo, there's really only one thing to say of any importance: Oreo was a dog, and he Lived.
Goodbye dumb animal, I love you.
