He died. We buried him at my mom and dad’s house with the rest of the deceased animals. We wrapped him in his favorite blanket and gave him his shreds o’ Canadian goose he loved to carry around in his mouth. I don’t think I’ve seen an animal die so quickly. Two days ago he started throwing up. Then he got really lathargic and wouldn’t even take his medicine. Bec spent an hour coaxing 15cc’s of Gatorade into him, he drank a bit of water. She walked the other two dogs, came back into their house and he was lying in his own vomit. He was a very persnickety dog, so Bec knew he was almost gone. She went into the house and called the vet, then when she went back into the shed, he was breathing his last. CPR didn’t even work, so he is hanging out with my grandpas and the other animals somewhere. I am sure that humans and animals go to the same place, otherwise I don’t want to go there.
It is hard. Pippin was just what I always wanted in a dog. Big. Galumphy. And totally loving. Lily is sad. So is Sydney. They are just pacing around in their house looking for Pippin. Bec said the sweetest thing was that Lily started crying and then she let her out and she laid down next to him and licked his face. How sad. Death: it seems as if it is constantly licking at our heels.