Today I'm spending last hours with my best friend, Barkley. He is my pooch, my buddy, my best friend in happy and sad times. He is almost 17 and had a good long run. Who in the cosmos decided that our beloved pets would have a much shorter life than we do?
I wish I could believe that there is a rainbow bridge, that he will be bouncing on the clouds with other pooches, that he will be free of pain and wait for me. Tonight I will feed him a steak and not care if he spews wet poop all over the place. Next week I will put his multiple beds in the trash, and donate his leftover food, treats and drugs. I won't stop him from chewing his feet or anything else. I wish there is a reason I could change my mind, but that's not going to happen.
Thanks for reading. I haven't posted a diary in a long time. But I need support.