Current mood:

pessimistic

...And I killed his dog on his birthday.
My brother's dog died yesterday. He had the damned dog for fifteen years, can you imagine that?

The dog had seventeen years, and the vets had been wanting to put him to sleep since last September, when his heart had an almost complete failure.

We decided to wait, because you wouldn't believe the spirit on that dog. He wasn't able to walk for almost two weeks (we had to clean him up, hold his head to give him food), but he recovered.

From then on, he was lying on his bed almost all the time, but we took him out to walk all afternoons and a little in the morning.

Problem was, the dog started having seizures.

Last Friday he had seven of those between 9 AM and 1 PM, when I was alone with him.

When he calmed down we took him to the vet, who said his kidneys weren't working and gave us pills for the seizures.

Yesterday he was real bad, eyes blank and moaning, and didn't recognized our voices. And the dog was a tough nut, he would hold on even though he could no longer eat. So I took him to the vet and had him put to sleep.

All while my brother had to entertain some dry old aunt who came to eat cake for his birthday and looked at us like we were crazy for crying for the dog.

I didn't kick her out, I'm civilized or what?