old habits die slow
Michael Estabrook
We put our dog to sleep 5 days ago. He had cancer of the bladder and intestines. He had such trouble going, and could never find a comfortable position. I believe he was beginning to experience too much pain. That's not good. His name was Yeats. He had papers. His mother was Kerry Lady (RA663103). His father was Sonimar Topper (RA165450). He lived 13 years, 2 months and 3 days. He was a good little guy. He loved to eat anything, even carrots. He barked at squirrels and the mailman. He chased the neighborhood cats out of his yard. Once he treed a coon. We miss him. This morning when I opened the refrigerator to take out the cream for my coffee, I reached for the can of dog food like I always do, to put it out so it warms up. But there was no dog food, and there was no dog either.
