Yesterday morning one of my dogs died. It was my brother's dog, Goofy. He was such a special dog. Had lots of little quirks to him, and we all thought he'd outlive us all. He ate so much crap he shouldn't have: rocks, wood, plastic, razors, books, decks of cards, purse, Halloween costume, plastic liner of the shower and the cord of a plugged in fan twice.
He really was a special little dog. He didn't go in the kitchen for probably six or seven years. He was scared of the noise the ice maker made, the toaster, the oven, the timer.
He was very lovable, when you caught him in a good mood. He was afraid to bite you and we all experienced first hand.
Luckily I was home with him when he passed away. We think it was of a stroke, I don't think he was in pain. He wasn't crying and trust me if he was in pain he would have been crying. I was petting his head as he died.
I knew something was off with him from the first time I saw him yesterday, he was just off. I called my mom to let her know and she called my dad to come over. But 15 minutes later he died, and I was crying as I called my dad. My mom kept calling me to check up on me and I just started crying all over again.
Now it's just weird to be home and not have him prancing around. Rascal knows something is up. He seems sad. And when he goes in the front yard he stands by the gate waiting.
I'm now on the lookout for a new dog. I had told my mom that when one of my dogs died I'd get a new one relatively soon. And with Rascal being 14.5 years old I know that he doesn't have forever. So I just want to start the transition sooner rather than later.