Over the holidays, my parents had to put down a dog they had had for four or five years. It was really sudden, and came about because of an incident we had on Christmas day. The dog, Mogis, had been a stray that wandered onto our property, starved and cold. We gave him food, and he cautiously stepped into our sunroom, thankful for the dog food we presented him with.
He was a good friend, a snuggle monster, if you will. Though he was too big to be a lap dog, he would always try to lay in our laps. He was one of us.
Except, he had a mean streak. You see, my parents have an old dog, about 11 or 12 years old. And she and Mogis never really got along that well. They'd give each other space, but once Mogis pinned her to the ground for no real reason. This happened again on Christmas day, hurting the older dog's ear. After we shortly broke up the fight, Mogis wouldn't stop stalking the other dog.
The vet told my parents this was not a good sign, and his behavior didn't seem to be getting any better. It wasn't until an hour ago when I got the message he had been put to sleep two days ago.
He was a good friend. Cheerful, always glad to see me, always happy to snuggle, always ready to play, always loving.
May your journey lead you to wonders, my friend.
This was the last picture I took of him, the day before he was put to sleep.http://i.imgur.com/hoM8S.jpg