Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot. - Charlie Chaplin

Friday, February 18, 2011

the year of the dog

My mom called me around dinner last night.   "We're putting Dunkin down tonight, just thought I'd let you know."  Dunkin, was my family's pet dog for the past 6-7 years.  A Bichon Frise, he was affectionately known as "a little white fluff ball" with a tail that curled onto up onto his back mirrored with a quirky, "how can you not like me?!" personality.  Over the past few months, he was withering away from a bounding bowing ball shape to a frail skeleton, not eating much and barely able to stand.  As with many pets, the vet wasn't exactly sure what was up and my parents weren't about to invest thousands into a guessing game.  They'd prefer he live out whatever days he had left as best he could at home being loved.  
It's a bit upsetting to me and I'm sure to my siblings, but I know my mom and dad will take it the hardest.  As "empty-nesters"  Dunkin was the spoiled 4th child that would never leave home.  You see 2010 was a year to remember to hate for my folks, due to two big events:  my dad was laid-off and my aunt (my mom's older sister) passed away.  Every visit home came with the self-tasked attempt to make things feel better.  It was tough.  My mom never looked that sad and beaten down.  "I don't know Matt," she said, "the year, just a bad year.  I just don't know what to do anymore.  I give up." 

I want to say Dunkin's passing isn't "as bad" as my aunt's, but, for me that can only be measured by how high the degree of care and love for something or someone.  My dad did get another, better job he likes a lot and I think 2011 still stands a chance at being OK.  My brother is getting married for one thing, my sis is graduating college, there's another.  But I know, like it or not, it will always be the year we lost our "little white fluff ball."

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