Her name was Rowsby-Woof. We called her "Rowsby", Miss Woof", Woofie-Pop, Browndog, Jengus-Gook, Huh-Huh Dog, and an assundry of other nicknames and tags. She was a chocolate Lab. She was my best friend. She was a constant companion. She was a comforter. She was an entertainment committee. Now, she's gone.
The night before last, I was going to write a blog about how great my dog was. I wanted to write about her as a tribute to a great living being, so that the world wouldn't think that I could only honor her once she was passed. Now, after being too late, I'm writing a memorial tribute.
Rowsby died in her sleep yesterday after battling kidney failure at the age of 14.
I cannot describe the pain. Three years ago, my father passed suddenly at the age of 57 and I don't remember the pain being this bad. Maybe it was. Maybe I've just put it aside and replaced it with pleasant memories and current events.
In a day or so, I'm going to get it together. Right now, I'm scatterbrained and uncontrollably sobbing. I have so many profound things to say but can't put these thoughts in line with this physical, gut-wrenching pain blowing them around.
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