TheBanyanTree: no comment needed

[paul]

This is not fun.  This not how I want to spend my day off.  This is like 
watching R's dad the day he died.  Do dogs get Lou Gehrig's?

If not, leave it to Fred to be an exception.

Which, for Fred, is normal.  Being exceptional, I mean.


Between sentences, I'm typing this and checking Fred.  He's in the DFZ. 
  He's shutting down.  Just a matter of hours...

The other dogs know.  Wilma is hovering.  Dino and BamBam know something 
bad is happening.  Stupid and the collie are subdued, too.


We moved out here in February, 1993.  Actually started buying the place 
in August, 1992, but folks in Burnet don't get in a rush about much and 
we finally closed about a week before Thanksgiving.

I first met Fred in early October.  His name was Beaucefious (sp) after 
some Dallas Cowboy.  We were just messing around in the garage, sorting 
stuff and putting a lot into the trash pile.  Mike and current g/f came 
by to sponge cigs and beer and supper.  And with Fred.  Trying to sell 
me a puppy.  A purebred Brittany Spaniel.  When we are clearing junk 
junk and packing good junk because, like, we are moving.  Duh.

In the space of a double garage and six people, who gets followed by the 
puppy.  All day?  Of course, stuffing him into my t-shirt might have 
helped the following.  :)  He was little.

Of course.

Me and dogs go together like stink on shinolea.  :)  Especially  me and 
Fred since first sight/sniff.  And Wilma, too.  Always.  Love at first 
sight does happen.


I bought Fred early March, 1993.  Yeah, I actually paid for a dog. 
Never did get his papers, never really cared anyway.  Quit the State job 
because I'm gonna get rich raising emu.  That was a good plan.  Too bad 
it didn't get /me/ rich.

And I had a shadow following me around while I'm building bird pens and 
clearing brush.  A 200 MPH shadow.  Fred loves to run.


Brittany Spaniels are said to live 10-12 years and be 35 to 45 pounds. 
At his peak, Fred weighed 68 pounds.  Pure muscle.  Fred is close enough 
to being 15 to just say he is 15.  Six weeks shy from birth is close enough.


He's been getting pretty slow lately.  Getting skinny.  Food doesn't 
taste good.  Has bad days and sleeps all day, has good days and barks at 
buzzards and does his FOP.  Fred On Patrol around the fence.  He's been 
getting really slow for the last week.

Today, well.  Since this morning he's hardly trying to get up.  Jaw 
sorta locked shut.  But he laps up water from my hand.  Eyes open and 
blinking and seeming to see, and The Nose seems to still work.  The 
shallow panting isn't a good sign.



And, on May 7, 2007, at 2 PM, he's gone.


Best spent $50 no matter how long any of us live.


I better hit Send before I short out a keyboard.



"I'm gonna miss him" is an understatement.

e~e
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