Just a dog.....

You know we don't have a dog.  And we never will.
There are good reasons for that.  They shed.  They slobber.  They make a mess in the yard and sometimes in the house.  You have to feed them.
Oh yes, you say, but you once had a dog.  We did.  Snooty.  A mixed breed of a mutt that Julia and Emily could climb on, lay on, chase, even share their food with.
Oh yes, I had to clean up the yard.  And the house when she had an accident.
And then there was the winter when the snow was deep..... 79?.... and the damn dog had to use the driveway as a yard.  I did not realize the problem that would cause until spring time when the snow melted and there were these huge blobs of brownish crap  on the roof of the garage.  It seemed I should have aimed the snow blower away from the garage, not at it.  I don't remember how many rains it took to wash that off!
And the dog had a tumor under her left front leg.  When she walked, it looked like she was carrying a basketball.  The tumor was inoperable without causing muscle damage to the front leg, rendering it useless and making her a three legged dog.
Emily was in sixth grade.  That would be 87 or so.  The tumor got bigger, the dog got to the point where she could barely walk.  And it was time to say good bye.
It was the hardest thing I had to do....I took our dog into a vet office, knowing I would not bring her home.  No more picking up the messes in the yard.  No more buying dog food and cleaning the water bowl.  No more yapping in the middle of the night to go out or scare off the imaginary intruder.  No more Snooty.
You know, we don't have a dog.  And we never will.
But Emily has dogs.  Libby is my favorite.  She's the mutt that captured our hearts from the day Emily brought the foundling home from a vet clinic, where she had been dumped.
She's a messy dog.  Sheds.  Drools like crazy.  Demands attention from anyone within arms' length.  And if you don't pet her, she'll lean on you until you do.
For 13 years she has been there, protecting Emily, playing catch with me.  Being my listening buddy and gladly putting up with my kvetching as long as I was petting her.  When she was younger we would wrestle all over the house.   She'd chase a ball.....never bring it back, but she would always chase it.  And tug of war was an outcome whenever she had something in her mouth she wasn't supposed to have.
Over the weekend Libby started bleeding from her ear.  Last November she had her spleen removed and they told Emily she had a rather aggressive form of cancer.  Today the vet said she had a growth in her ear that was bleeding, possibly a manifestation of the cancer which produces tumors throughout the body.
Libby is not in pain, or at least obvious pain.  But the bleeding can't be stopped without a pretty involved surgery which may solve the problem, or may not.  And it won't prevent another tumor from forming in the same ear, or another ear, or elsewhere.
I know she's just a dog.  But I'd be lying if I didn't say it's hurting like hell right now.  Emily has to make the call.  I know what I would do, and I think Em knows what has to be done.
I know she's just a dog.  But she's the dog who backed the greyhound away from Emily after Emily was attacked.  She's the dog that Emily brought home from the vet, saving it from a life of uncertainty while giving it a loving home, plenty of food, and a lot of attention.  She's the dog who is, and will always be my friend.  I will miss her.
I will be with Em when she takes Libby for that last vet appointment.  I will hold my daughter, and my wife, as we all shed tears.
But I won't have another dog.