Inflatable Sheep

We had to put Jimmy to sleep last night. At seventeen (119 in dog years), he was a little clock winding down. His physical ailments made his life increasingly difficult these past couple of years despite all we did to keep him comfortable.

We had an appointment to take him to the vet this Saturday to re-evaluate his condition. John and I were cherishing him everyday as we thought the outcome of the visit to the vet might be for the worse. But when I came home yesterday, Jimmy couldn't stand and he was in shock.

The kind vet made time for us. She said his chances were slim. It was hard. Even though we could see he was fading, we wanted just a couple more days to smell his fur, to hold his small dacschund body, to gaze at his lovely cocker spaniel eyes. But all we had were those last few moments last night.

Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bugs bunnies bite, Mr. Jimmy Mo' Jammin Johnson. Mom and Dad love you.