I don't even know how to write this post. I'm sitting here crying already.
But what do I do when I'm emotionally raw? I write. I apologize in advance if you are A) not ready for a sad story or B) you don't like dogs/pets.
Yesterday we found out that our sweet boxer Stu has cancer. Like bad. Like everywhere. This afternoon, we have to put him down. He's five and half and we are devastated.
I can't imagine our home without his presence. Even now, as I write this, he's at my feet. He's present.
He has been a silent, strong comfort to me through so much. This dog literally sat on my lap during months and months of negative pregnancy tests. His loyal companionship forced me outside for walks in the sun during really tough months. As much as Chris, he's endured the roller coaster ride we road to conceiving Gabe.
Since Gabe's birth, he's been attentive and friendly, totally submitting to the little, crazy bundle-now-toddler invading his world. He's been sat on, chewed on, and has had a child steal his toys and dog food (yes, Gabe is weird) and has never shown any aggression. The picture perfect family dog.
I dread today.