There are three beings on this planet that I live and die for: my mom, my auntie and...my dog. Yeah, you read that right, I love my dog like a fat kid loves cake. She's 14 now and still the shit. And I will fight anyone all in the face if they dare disagree with me.
How can you not love this dog?
Her name is Rajine (don't blame me for the Jedi name...I got her from a total idiot completely obsessed with the Star Wars comic books), she's a brindle pit and spoiled as hell. She even knows how to say "mama." She lives with my auntie now because the Nazis in my rental office and the good (read: stupid) people of the City of Alexandria believe that pit bulls are all blood-thirsty heathens and can't be allowed within city limits. Never mind that she's played with children as young as 2 before with no problems. Never mind that she herself thinks she is a small child.
Alas...the time has now come to seriously consider her next move.
My dog has cancer (really God? as if me having it wasn't enough, you gotta give it to my dog too?), what started out as something that looked like a cherry eye was confirmed to be an inoperable tumor which went all the way to the back of her brain. I took her to see a doggy oncologist (yes, these people exist and no they aint cheap) about 2 years ago and was told that while I didn't have to put her down at the time (she was still 4 years old in her head and very active), eventually I would have to put her to sleep once her illness started to impact her quality of life. The doc said "as long as she can eat and shit...she's ok." The ole girl has since lost sight in that eye and her health is declining in general old-codger fashion. I've noticed in the last few visits that the light seems to have left her eyes, gone is the playful 4 year old and what's left in its place is an old lady who just wants to lay around and listen to the tv.
*drops mic*
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