I had dogs growing up and I loved them, but they belonged to the family as a whole and I never felt like I had a special friendship with them.
I was 27 years old when I had the opportunity to adopt Able. Able was older, but he had an amazing personality, was very spunky, and had the worst farts.
Able was “my” dog. Able cuddled up next to me at night, hiked through Busiek Park with me, and eagerly whined every night for his fried egg. (Did I mention he was spoiled?)
I loved Able, yet Able was old when I got him. Three years went by and Able was not doing well and in a lot of pain. As Able got worse and worse I realized I was going to have to make a hard decision and dreaded it.
I consider myself a strong man. I have seen and done things that tested my resolve and come out the other end stronger. But I was not ready for when I had to put Able down. Here I was, a 30-year-old man, holding Able as they gave him the shot to put him to sleep, and I could not stop weeping. I mean, deep, heartfelt, uncontrollable weeping.
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Keep a civil tongue.