Last night the missus and I had our older dog put to sleep. She'd been given to us as a puppy by a friend of the missus, and had been with us her whole life.
She was, more than anything else, a sweet animal. Affectionate, friendly, well-behaved -- just a basic good dog for the most part. Unfortunately, she was an Australian Shepherd, a breed known for its intelligence, and she had enough brains to give her trouble. She was a dog who should have had a job.
It wasn't an easy decision, but Amanda's quality of life had degraded over the last year or so. She was becoming incontinent, falling while climbing steps, was unable to get up on the couch anymore. When the missus found her lying in a pool of urine the other morning, we agreed it was time.
Here's a story about Amanda...
Ah, well. Not a lot to say after you've said goodbye... And I just noticed that in the photo above, she's resting her head on my knapsack, and now I'm remembering how she'd lay on my knapsack or jacket if she got the chance, the one time I found her actually sleeping in the laundry basket on top of my clothes...
Damnit.
