the omen.

It's part of life.

It's something we all have to face with our loved ones, may they be our Fuzzy Family, our chosen family, or our blood relatives we're close to.

Everyone has an expiry date.

But somehow, it's just a little more painful when it's our Fuzzy Family.

We can't tell them, "It's going to be ok now."

The old, one-eyed Golden is really starting to go downhill.

We had to bring him in for pain meds, because his front joint has possibly become arthritic.

Poor Papi had to carry him out to the grass so he could tinkle.

Of course, when you bring them in to the vet, they act like they're fine.

Yet still, there was no denying that he was having a hard time limping about the office.

There's also no denying that his Ghost Face is becoming a little more prominent.

There were tears from Papi and G'ma today before the vet visit.

Our vet is no nonsense.

"I don't know how long you will want to treat him for the pain.  That's up to you.  But he's old."

Yeah.

We know.

We won't be letting him suffer.

We will try to make him comfortable and it looks like I'll have to start using the towel method to help him up the stairs.

There is not a hope in hell that I can pick up the 80 pounder anymore!

20 lbs is my limit, and that's on a good day.

But when he's gotta get out to piddle, he's going to need my help.

This could be tricky.

The saddest part, is he doesn't get to go to work tonight.

He loves his job.

He takes care of the hearts that need love at the safe house mi esposo works at.

The Golden will walk them to their door when it's curfew.

Well, that may be because he gets cookies for doing so, but still, he loves those ladies and he loves his job.

He will nuzzle into them, spreading good cheer, and allowing them to forget about their fears/pain/trauma for at least a moment.

While I was recovering from the worst of my jaw surgery, he was the one who laid beside me, his head on my lap, his one, caring eye looking to me, as if to say, "I wish I could help."

It's part of life.

Preparing to say, "Good-bye," to our best buddies.

Yeah, I've done it a few times in my life, but that doesn't make it any easier.

I suppose that with the state The Golden is in right now, he won't be one of the critters to make it to the Dominican Republic with us.

This house has sadness.  There is a knowing of foreboding doom.

It's a right of passage; learning to let go and say farewell.

I still haven't let go of my Dearly Departed Gypsy.  I also still feel Mr. Moustache in the house.

They never leave us in spirit.

This is something I'm grateful for. 

Their love lingers.

Today's mantra, from My Gratitude Buddy:

i am hitching my wagon to a star