This is a sad and lonely morning in the Carenen Cottage. We had to put our dog to sleep. Degenerative bone disease had rendered her a cripple in pain, and she was getting worse fast.
I can tell you this about her. She was intelligent, playful, obedient, sweet-natured (never bit anything but her food), and a good snorer. She had a large vocabulary that included the usual “squirrel,’ and many others. She knew “eat,” “dog,” “out,” “come,” “sit,” “stay” and “pterodactyl.” She also knew “night-night” and “bath,” but she pretended she didn’t know “bath,” but I know she did because when I said it, she tried to disappear. Not easy for a 79-pound Zimbabwean Cattle Retriever – Crested (actually, she was a blend of Golden Retriever, German Shepherd, and several other breeds, including “Mushpot”).
She was always good and generally happy, her tail wagging all the time, even when the vet was giving her the injections.
She was our friend and companion, greeter, and confidant. We miss her already.
Her name was “Roxie.”