I normally try to spin sentences and words to say something funny, but this time humor fails me completely. My five year old Beagle, Bruno, has been diagnosed with advanced lymphoma, and it saddens me beyond words.
He is the sweetest dog and has been a joy all around. Given several choices, we, as a family, have decided for Bruno to undergo a therapy of prednisone. We know that his days are counted and he will stay with us for maybe a month. He seems happy, and he can still run in the backyard with his brother, Nero. He is still chasing squirrels, bunnies, and the rare joggers who wander in the trail behind his territory.
I am dreading the moment when Bruno won’t eat anymore, because it will be the moment we have to take the final decision for him. And I don’t want to.