My parents had to put their dog down yesterday. Silly me, I knew it was coming (Mom warned me on Sunday), and yet I *still* checked my home email from work and sat at my desk crying for about an hour when I got the news. You'd think I would know better.
They got Angie when I was in college, so she wasn't one of my childhood dogs. But, she was definitely one of the family. They found her at the pound when, the story goes, they went in looking for a short-haired dog. Then, they ran across Angie, who danced and pranced and generally tried harder than all the other dogs in the place to get them to take her with them. In spite of the fact that she was a long haired shepherd/collie mix, they couldn't resist and she went home that day. And dad's been cleaning up mountains of hair on a regular basis ever since.
She was a sweet dog, who wanted to be an only dog. Mom and Dad had four other dogs during their time with Angie, and she was never so happy as when she was the only one. She wanted all the love, all to herself. But, no matter what, she was a good, loving, mellow, happy dog. And we'll all miss her.
So goodbye Angie, and we'll see you at the Rainbow Bridge...