Roughly an hour ago, I put Whiskey, our beloved Labrador for seven years, inside three plastic bags I bought at a convenient store earlier before heading home from my girlfriend's house. Since he's a large dog, I had to buy a bag that 's around 18" in length and height to make sure he fits. A couple of minutes before that, I watched Whiskey from our groto as he struggled to stand up, walked a couple of steps with his legs wobbly, urinated while standing, and walked a couple more to the corner until his legs finally gave out. I patted and caressed his head while saying things like "I'm sorry" and "It's all right" because there is nothing more I could do. Facing the wall, Whiskey stared to burn a hole through it, struggling to make his breaths count. Finally, he exhaled long enough for me to see his soul pass through his nose and rise up just to disperse in the air. I just looked on as he wheezed seven more short breathes before he finally ca
Ramblings rescued from the great deep
