wingsie

New blog, bad news. My family's dog died this afternoon of a heart attack. He was 13, almost 14, years old, a cute fatty American Eskimo named Buddy. I got him when I was 12 as a gift... I'd been begging for a dog, we'd only ever had cats. But as a gift for completing a babysitting course and doing my first babysitting job, my parents got him for me. He's stayed with him though when I moved... he was such a great companion for my parents, and they are heartbroken over this.

Here he is with my daughter the last time we saw him, which was in August. He had such a personality and a great smile in his eyes. He will be missed by many!




But something that puts things into perspective... my grandmother, who I thought was near death due to an emergency colon surgery (she had a surgery almost a year ago, then another surgery to fix the first surgery's mistake, and with all the anesthesia her memory went), but she is doing so well, is very healthy and happy. And after my mother told me Buddy died, she also told me that my cousin, who's been waiting on a lung transplant list for over a year, is getting her lung transplant right now as I write this. So it just reminds me that things die, people die, loves die, but there is life that goes on, and to appreciate it.