A Tribute to Sandy

At 6:15 this morning my mother woke me up. She said, "I know it's kind of early, but...Sandy's dead." When my Dad found him with his head resting on William's shirt in the floor of the laundry room, he was already stiff. He died in his sleep, the best way to go. My educated guess is that he died because his teeth were so bad (we couldn't afford to get them cleaned) and all the bacteria from his mouth got into his blood stream and rotted his organs; mainy the liver and kidneys are affected.

I found out this afternoon that he didn't eat his food yesterday morning. My Dad put Sandy's soft food in his bowl for him and he sat pretty for it (that's what we called it when he sat up straight and tall), but he didn't eat it. He just looked at it. My opinion is that he knew he was going to die.

It's still so surreal. I got home from my friend's house and he wasn't there at the door. I realized that I would never see him again. I would never pet him, hug him, be hugged by him (he'd wrap his paw around your leg), I would never be able to tell him to go away because his breath smelled bad, I would never be comforted by him ever again. He was eight years old.

This is my tribute to a great dog and a wonderful companion.

Goodbye, Sandy-Dog. We'll miss you.