Good Boy, Pierre

Absolutely hate goodbyes. Dogs are dogs, I know. They aren’t people and so there isn’t really a need to write a long, sad, introspective blog post on the many ways this furry guy brought joy to our lives. He died three days before his 15th birthday. We helped the process along because it was the right thing to do, but making an appointment to say a forever goodbye is about the sorriest way to spend a Saturday. So this blog post is for you Pierre. I’m writing it as you lay at my feet, waiting for your 2:30 appointment. I’ve said my goodbye and thanked you for hanging in there with this family for so long. Some days were better than others, and lately you’ve had mostly bad days. But from now on, we only remember the good: the squirrel yelp, barking at toys in the pool, your determination to jump high enough to bite the possum on the fence, your place in the big chair, and your sweet disposition that inspired at least three other families to bring Westies into their family. So, goodbye buddy. And one last time: Good boy, Pierre.

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