I was going to post this to Laz's comments section after his dog blog, but it got way too long. Here it is:

Laz, I swear you make this shit up. Your life is such a damned storybook.

Personally, I remember when the first dog I was close to, Rusty, died. He had a colon problem and had to have surgery when he was 10. They put him under, and when we picked him up, he was able to walk to the van. But in the 10 minutes it took to get him home, he couldn't walk into the house. A couple hours later, lying on the frontroom floor, not moving at all, he finally just stopped breathing. His system couldn't handle the anesthetics, I guess. My mom and dad watched as it happened, but we kids were playing somewhere or doing homework or something. Fortunately, we got to say goodbye within an hour before he lost consciousness or whatever...he struggled to wag his tail when I gave him a hug, but he did. That was freshman year of high school, a year that (not playing top that, Laz...I promise) started with my grandpa's death, ended with my grandma's death and included their dog, a few aunts and uncles (one mugged and murdered a couple blocks from my house), and two of my neighbors (less than 24 hours apart, in a car accident and a heart attack--separate incidents too)--the ones on the other side that I didn't know that well, not Butch and Steve's family, for those who know them.

Now, Smores, the dog we got after Rusty, is really up there in age. She has trouble walking up and down stairs sometimes, as well as getting up. Her hips are bad...her back feet don't point in normal directions. My dad postulated to me once, "I wonder if she's full of tumors and crap, she's so chubby," in a very wistful way, because there's nothing they can do about it. She's not long for this world...and I'll be sad when it's time...I think she liked me more than any of the rest of my family. I used to actually take the time to play with her and pet her...and now she always gets sooooo excited when I come home. And she smiles too..it's amazing...she squints and actually smiles...

But, if I ever have to get rid of Kazak, my current dog, I will be crushed. He was there in Missouri for me. We've been through one cross-state move (back to Chicago). He's the only reason I'm living in Bolingbrook, really. And he's just the best dog ever, period. No matter some of the crap he puts me through (court, getting out of the yard, tearing up my bedsheets and covers, etc.). That will be a sad day.