...are the ones that make the biggest difference
My mom called last night and told me that my dog Lady, a Char Pei with personality I got when I was 14, is on the verge of death. She has been going downhill for a while now; she's lost a lot of weight, her appetite has decreased and while she stille enjoys going for a walk, doing so has become exhausting for her. A couple of days ago she stopped eating almost entirely, has been vomiting a bit and has a hacking cough. It may be time to put her down. She's had a good run for a Char Pei, though - the normal lifespan is 9-10 years, so she's done much better than expected. I won't get too mushy. I'll simply say she was my dog and I love her. She was a good dog. She didn't do much in the way of tricks, but she was loving and very protective of our family. My mom would sometimes take her and the other dog up a field near our house and Lady would always position herself between my mom and anyone else who was there, making it perfectly clear that they were in for a wrinkly death should they get too close. When I was young, she would sleep on my bed at night and learned to head to my room when I'd say "go to bed." If I happened to be staying up late, around bed time she'd get up, walk halfway down the hall and look back at me as if to say "forgetting something?" She'll forever be the standard for any other dog in my life, though I doubt any will ever measure up.