We said goodbye to Kirby today.
Fourteen is up there for a dog, and she had been showing her age lately. She was getting thinner and thinner, didn't want to eat, could hardly see a thing.
It wasn't easy to accept those changes in Kirby. I chose her from the animal shelter for my birthday in 1996, when she was 2 and I was 24. We went through a lot together, and I continued to think of her as a young girl. (I know she wouldn't appreciate being just a couple of blog posts away from a cat!)
This morning, she was so weak she couldn't stand. After I spent some time snuggling her and talking with her, we took her to the vet and sent her to Rainbow Bridge.
She's buried in a nice shady spot under a couple of trees in our new back yard, where we can visit her often and remind her what a good girl she is.
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