Goodbye, Tyler

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My little piglet who grew up into the most handsome dog, who loved to sit in front of the electric fan beside me when I had a writing project, and who loved to say goodbye to me when I left for work by propping his forelegs up on the gate.

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My sweet baby boy who patiently waited for me to finish petting Sammy before I could get to him, who resorted to claiming my legs to demand hugs, who did everything he was told except to go inside the house after a walk.

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My booboo who sat down even before you could get the biscuits out of your pocket, who started dancing in his sitting position because he was excited to get his treats.

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My poor, but very brave pup who got very, very sick twice within a few months, unable to walk, challenged to pee, fighting off some unknown infection. He got better each time, but it must have taken a toll on his body and his resistance, and he caught a cold this week, and wasn’t able to recover from that.

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I had no idea it was coming. He was walking. Last night, we took a walk around the block so that he could eat grass – he was throwing up phleghm and I thought he just needed to sort out his stomach. So, he started throwing up all his food, and stopped eating; I suppose he figured out that ingesting something means you have to throw it up. I would smear his teeth with supplemental vitamins so that he would have some sort of food coming in. I thought he would be better tomorrow.

I spent his last day with him. I sat with him while I worked and constantly refilled his water bucket – he would take a few sips then topple it over and look inside. I don’t know what it was he was looking for, but I just kept on filling it up and he would get thirsty, take a few sips then topple it over again. I was worried that maybe I had to leave him alone so that he could sleep, it seemed like my presence forced him to stay awake. I petted him constantly and he was happy.

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Finally, I left him to take a shower so that I could get ready for ballet. It was Mom who found him, unmoving, his eyes open. I couldn’t believe it. Last night, we were taking a stroll around the neighborhood, and he was deliberately pissing off the dogs of the other houses, behind their locked gates. Yesterday, he won a fight with Sammy (though Hugo helped). I only started force-feeding him supplement sickboy food yesterday. I was going to bring him to the vet tomorrow if he still refused to eat. Today, I saw him about to throw up, but it subsided, and I thought, ah, he’s getting better.

I’m starting to think that he waited for me to leave him before he died. He probably thought it would hurt me less.

He’s always been a good dog. I will miss him terribly.

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