Man, y'all.
I had a scare this weekend. Our baby basset hound (he's 15 months old) got terribly sick Thursday night, got worse Friday night.
I love my dogs with a fiery passion -- I do. We (Julia Talbot, me and our resident redhead, the Ninja) have a 3 year old basset girl, a basset boy, and a 13 year old granny pit bull. And when one gets sick, the whole household stresses.
In the last year, we've lost 2 pups -- a shepherd poodle mix and a basset, so we're all sensitive to it, too. I went to Linda (the lovely lady at the vet's) and told her, "Please, I can't lose another one. Not right now."
She patted my head and hugged me (which is basically what I needed).
Right now, Mr. Sonny (yes, named after *that* Sonny) is sitting at Julia's feet and begging a pepperoni (which he's *not* getting, thank you very much), feeling like a brand new puppy.
*spends a moment giving thanks*
1 comment:
hallelujah
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