Susan's old dog has been dead one year.
She can hardly believe it's been that long since she was gassed out of a room by extreme flatulence.

Susan gets all misty thinking about how she'd watch the old dog eat too fast, throw up, then eat the vomit.

It seems like only yesterday that she stepped in dog pee every damned day, and that sometimes the pee seeped through the floorboards & dripped onto the basement floor below.

Memories.

This time last year Susan's dog was dying.
The dog wasn't popular outside of her immediate family but that didn't seem to bother her. She had an enviable confidence and never sought extraneous approval.

She carried herself with feminine grace even though she wasn't considered classically pretty and most folks referred to her as him.

She made no apologies for her few shortcomings, she had as much right as anyone to lie on the floor and fart.

When she was permanently banished from Susan's bed she didn't waste time whining, she showed her adaptability by jumping into then next available bed down the hall.

Susan really misses warming her feet under that formerly alive dog at the end of her bed.

Susan still thinks she sees her previously alive dog in the house. She walks into the livingroom and habit makes her look to the spot where the dog used to lie. A chenille blanket bunched up in a corner of the couch tricks her for a second. She still closes the bathroom door to keep the dog from drinking out of the toilet and maneuvers around the large plastic bin holding her food in the laundry room. The husband reports to hear the dog walking through the house in the morning. Mercifully, no one smells the dog.

Susan's not a grief purist & didn't think she needed to wait an appropriate amount of time before she allowed another dog into the house. She views the situation more simply; her family needs a dog and they found a dog who needs to live somewhere other than a cage. It's like a Hallmark card, one that bites.

Susan's dog went to Heaven on day twenty four.

The regular veterinarian, who Susan allowed to inspect the dog only when absolutely necessary, wanted an outrageous sum to put her down. The last time Susan's dog required this vet's services it cost Susan over eight hundred dollars, half when Susan left the dog, the other half when she picked her up. They sucked the money from Susan's check in less time than it took her to write it out, then they handed it back to her.
Here, take it with you and go.
Anyway, they weren't getting her dog now.

Susan's dog went to nice Dr. Bob who took his time and helped deliver her to the afterlife gently, without pickpocketing her owners. Susan's daughter was very sad and sniffly so Susan cheered her up by saying 'pull my finger' then took her into the kitchen to bake some anisette toast.

Susan has been preparing for the final days of her elderly, semi-continent, arthritic dog by giving her food from the table, letting her sleep on the couch and by not over reacting when she pees on Susan's feet.

The twelve year old boxer has slowed down but still able to enjoy her usual compliment of activities; roaming the yard, licking grease from the barbecue, having a nosh from the compost pile, trying to hump the neighbor's dog. Then last week she took to the couch and didn't leave except to eat and go potty, by invitation. When Susan came home from work the dog would barely look up, making no effort to move around or even wag her tail. Sad stuff. Susan knew that the dog would not be around to beg for food at Thanksgiving.

Susan took an old quilt and threw it on top of the dog's bed for when she couldn't make it back onto the couch. Susan watched as the dog attempted to position herself on the quilt, obviously in pain, but collapsed instead and fell asleep as if she had no strength at all to make the teeniest adjustment to her limbs or head. From this point on Susan began checking that the dog was still breathing and discussed with the husband about where they would bury her.

Friday night Susan had a date with her little sister to watch 'All About Eve' at cousin Lisa's house. She told everyone of her impending loss, got a little sympathy then they all sat down to watch watching Bette Davis and Celeste Holm grow to hate Anne Baxter.

Saturday morning Susan's neighbor came over to let his dogs run in her yard, this attracted the elderly, deaf dog's attention so she got off the couch and hobbled outside to see what was up. She seemed to make a teeny bit of a comeback keeping her distance from the other dogs but walking and pooping with much less of a labored effort.
For the rest of the afternoon she was barking at trick or treaters, following people into the kitchen and walking down the back steps of the deck instead of falling down them. At dinner she took her usual spot underneath the dining table instead of sleeping through it in the living room.

This is all Susan needed to cheer her up and banish the dog from the couch once again.