Hi, everybody!
Yesterday my dog turned 11 years old. I’ve had her since she was 3 months old. She’s my “ride or die”, and yesterday was fantastic.
First off, we started with a walk. Now, keep in mind I do have a puppy. He’s about 1.5 years old, so he benefited GREATLY from yesterday. Secondly, I made sure to provide a plethora of treats. Dog cookies? Check. Beef tendons? Check. Dental chews so they don’t have terrible breath from the beef tendons? Double check.
But I do get sad seeing my dog age. Like I said, she’s my “ride or die”–really she’s my everything. She’s helped me through so much. Multiple break-ups, multiple spells of extreme depression, moments I thought I’d kill myself, and hell, she even saved a woman who hanged herself at my house. How? Well, I didn’t see my friend’s legs hanging out of the closet, my dog did. She saved that woman. My dog is a damn hero.
Dogs have a special connection to me. When my brother passed when I was young, my parents got me a puppy not as a replacement, but as a new friend. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to live without a dog. They truly are something special. If you’re a cat person, that’s fine, just know dogs are superior in every single possible way. And that’s fact, not opinion.
It was good to see my dog have so much fun yesterday. Today she’s limping because she went a bit too hard at the dog park, but it’s all worth it to her. Plus I have plenty of medication and supplements to help with her pain.
Yesterday was a good day. Seems to be a theme nowadays. I can get used to this.
Happy birthday, my 11-year old badass doggo!
I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.
The Two Sides of Me 