At 8:30 AM this morning, my brother's old man dog, Elvis, caught the train to Dog Town. Yep. Another one bites the dust. My brother claims he named him Elvis because he "ain't nuthin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time" and that was Christmas Eve almost 17 years ago. We were all at mom's for Christmas Eve dinner and Elvis was out in the old laundry room at mom's until after dinner, waiting to meet everyone. Our kids made it a whole nine more months before we had to have a dachshund puppy, too. And we've been dachshunding ever since. And so have they.
At lunch last Friday, I had asked my brother if Elvis was doing the baby turtle like Wigman, with his back legs going out from under him, and that's when I got way more information on Elvis than I really needed, but what the hell. My sister and I both told my brother that when "dogs become incontinent, they are gone" and I think it was just the permission my brother needed to do what he already knew needed to happen. My family is such a bunch of softies that when it comes to our animals, we are just pathetic..... to be one of our animals is to live in dog heaven--on earth.
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