Poor Little Thing

VFDDawg #2 is dying.

This is as expected, but the news has not been universally well received.

I have been telling the children for a couple of months now that the transition from 9lbs to 4lbs and lots of sudden gray hair likely meant the dog would not survive whatever was wrong with her.  Still, to have a Veterinarian say things like “chronic” and “liver” in the same phrase hit DW hard.  Not “come home before I shoot myself” hard, more like “I sound sad on the phone”.  Of course, the dying dog WOULD have to be her favorite of them all.  I, having been accused previously of being a stone-hearted bastard, took the news pretty well in stride.

Stone-heartedness notwithstanding, I don’t like unnecessary noises.  My computers have silent fans.  I oil door hinges that squeak.  Just now I had to do something unconventional to make VFDDawg #3 shut up.  He was whining and crying and putting him out to pee didn’t help.  All day he’s been lying down next to #2 and generally getting on her nerves, with her growling at him to leave her alone (which never works).  Their kennels are side-by-side and usually they sleep out of sight of each other.  The last couple of nights, #2 has been on an extra-soft pillow in a small animal carrier to keep her warmer than usual*.  This puts her farther from #3 than usual.  #3 was locked up because he shits the floor at night if not.  #1 was lying on the floor in front of the kennel trying to sleep, and #2 was in the little carrier off to one side.  #3 was whining constantly.  Just now I had a little game of musical chairs and put #2’s crate in front of #3’s door so he could see her.

He stopped his crying.  He was crying to be near his pack mate who probably smells like death to a dog (while smelling like dog to people).  He wanted to be near to her.  This is where I’d start up an argument with JT because he thinks animals have souls, but he “resigned” from work recently so I can’t push his buttons any more.  Oh well.

The extremely stone-hearted basterdly side of me just realized that, the smaller this dog gets, the easier it will be to knock together a coffin for her when it comes time for that.  Ha-ha-ha.

*because it’s colder than witches’ tits outside, and they sleep near a big window


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