On this day 12 years ago, Dexter, our family dog, died. A schnoodle weighing about 25 pounds, he wasn't my favorite dog we had over the years, to say the least.
He was 13, and by then, had quite a lot of issues.
Back then, I was spending about half my time in North Carolina and the other half in New York (I hadn't yet moved here).
I left for NYC probably about a month prior, figuring this would be the last time I would see him, and I was right.
He didn't do that much for me. I was a lot more sad for Mom when he passed than I was about the actual dog, but I will most definitely not have that kind of reaction when Watson, current silly little family dog, makes his way across the Rainbow Bridge, whenever that happens. He's almost 13 now.
Borris
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