I thought dogs your size only lived to be 8.
I think you're still alive out of spite, you infernal hound.

It's my soul. You're trying to suck the life out of me. Is that it? That's the secret to your longevity.

Why did I ever get talked into this?
When you showed up, you were the wrong dog. You don't know that, but I do. We picked one of the others in the picture. We were very clear. I bet that dog was the perfect dog.

I bet a buffalo nickel she heels, and doesn't whine to be let in and out 3 times a night while everyone is sleeping. It's maddening. I think you're down and an hour later you're whining again to go out in the freezing cold to stare at...

Nothing. I think you have dementia. And you're half blind.

The pills I split in half and tuck into unwanted leftover pancakes with a smear of peanut butter certainly have you going up the stairs with ease but that glob of peanut butter is far more generous than you deserve.

You were trouble from the start.
A torn ear. Vaginitis. And 4 days before your first Christmas your heart stopped on the Vet's table while they fixed your hernia and they had to give you puppy CPR.

You were born ten days before we got married, and came to us just in time to die and be revived before Christmas.

You were house-trained from the first night. I'll give you credit for that. Whining to be let out to pee. But then you stole food and farted a cloud of nauseating stench so utterly vile it cleared our cabin. You smelled disgusting.

(Secretly I was a little proud. For such a small dog. Impressive.)

You never learned to walk on a leash. We tried puppy school but you just laid there and moaned. Feet sweating. You were a doggy dropout.

The cats taught you to drink out of the toilet. With your ears dangling in the water.

William said, "Mark my words, she's gonna drink pee some day."

He was right. He's very wise for a 9 year old.

When you were big enough, you started stealing food from the counter and it was hopeless from then on. Linda spent 15 minutes pulling bones from a filet of salmon for a sandwich. She went downstairs for 1 minute. 1 Minute! You went from a dead sleep to devouring salmon, bread, bones, and skin to whining at the door in 60 seconds.

She was pissed.

(Actually, it was kinda funny.)

Damn dog.

Last winter you kept crawling under yard furniture trying to die. Dogs do this. So their carcass doesn't attract predators nearer to their pack. They die alone and cold and in secret.

I yelled at you to get the fuck out of there and get your ass inside the warm house you stupid selfish bastard. You don't fucking die alone. You're not a coyote, goddamnit!

People always comment on your eyes. Spooky. Beautiful. Like ice. Creepy. Lovely. They have all these adjectives but they don't see how cloudy your eyes are. How they've gone mostly blind. How you bark at shadows.

Shut up! You're going to piss off the neighbours. There's nothing there!

Christ!

I know I've called you dumb. You're actually really smart. You don't listen because you're choosing behaviour instead of following commands. That doesn't mean you're dumb. I'll concede that much.

But you're not made for -39°C. You can't stay outside and yet you sit there freezing and I have to come get you, you dumb dog! Fuck!
You're going to freeze your paws. And your big dangly hound ears. Have some sense!

I'm never going to have dogs again. Just cats. From now on. I'm ruined for dogs. You food stealing whining fart machine! I can't handle another dog. I'm done.

You were there when William was born. No matter how much he crawled and poked and grabbed you, you would just groan. And lay there. I know you love him.

And Lily. She's got your number. She gives you treats to convince you to come inside. She loves you and I can't understand it. You're so annoying.

You've been around longer than my kids and my marriage. What the hell are we supposed to do when you're gone? Answer me that.

The sound you make when I put my knuckles in your ears is hilarious. Dumb dog. I call them brain scratches. I joke that my fingers are touching. Because you don't have a brain. Just a nose. It's the only thing that works and it doesn't matter that you're blind because of that ridiculous nose.

But I swear if I see that nose on the table while we're having supper I'll chop it off. Go lay down. You have food. You stopped eating dog food and just ate the cat food instead. So we just buy cat food now.

Fuck it. You're 12. What harm can it do?

Goddamn dog. I don't think I'm ready for what comes next. But I'll be there at the end. Just like with Duff. And Scoter. And Vega. And Otis. And Mary.

Sora. You dumb dog.

But Christ, I won't miss those farts.

B&W photo by Gloria Malgesini
Drawing by Graph