I have been meaning to blog about this but haven't really gotten myself together to do it until now.
Last week my dad's beloved dog Penny was put down. She was apparently totally healthy until one day last week when she all of a sudden wouldn't move. She just lay on the ground and wouldn't get up for anything. My dad took her to the vet and it was discovered that she was really sick and had to be put down right away because of the shape she was in.
It's hard to describe how much we loved this dog. Before we knew she was sick we could hardly even think of the day she died because we loved her so much and the thought of her being gone was too painful.
I remember the night we picked her up for the first time; I was 14 years old. We had to drive about an hour out of town to the breeder's to get her, and on that particular night there was a loud thunder storm. She lay on my lap in the backseat of the car, snuggling into me, terrified of the loud thunder. We knew right away that she was going to be loved by all of us, and that she wasn't just an ordinary dog.
She was the sweetest dog and had the best personality. It was obvious that she adored us. She was very protective of us. We all loved her but she was most certainly my dad's dog. She would look at him adoringly and obey him instantly. If she was ever scared she went to him first.
I don't really know what else to say other than I still can't really believe she's gone. I last saw her 2 years ago in 2005 when I visited BC, and I had no idea when I left that I would never see her again. She was only 9 years old when she died.