late yesterday afternoon, Don , my cocker spaniel bastard, he closed his eyes to return to open more. Anyone who has not ever lived with a dog, you understand that when that happens, a part of yourself dies with him. Animals might like more or less (I pity those who feel disgust or fear, even more than those unable to feel anything), but to get to understand their nobility, their loyalty and unconditional surrender, to get to love them more than people realize and that is a thousand times better than any mierdaintegrante of the human race, we need to have one, share life with him.
Don came home fourteen years ago. Fourteen, no less, said to be soon. Some bastard puppy left him to his fate, on the street. Perhaps that bastard gave it for Christmas to your little bastard junior and realize that growing up, ate, got sick, piss and shit, they decided to get rid of it, which does not come to be but another testament of poverty that characterizes our own species. Picked it up the street, temporarily a family that already had five dogs, with the idea of \u200b\u200btaking charge of it for a few weeks to find a new owner. But he found the owner (owner, in this case), if no partner. And is that to things you have to call them by name .
the first day I arrived, the very mamoncete gave me a pulse. And he won. Wine and leading the demon soul, imposing, barking, biting, running rampant, to carry off everything he can get. I was alone with him and scares me so I ended up locking me in the terrace with a cold from hell. And I did not dare to come again, and in a state of semicongelación, until nearly an hour later, when I saw it lying so rampant in the ground and I found that I had leaves the house made a Christ. At this moment we look and Don knew he had wins my respect. The next day, before I had time to wake up, I mounted a similar move. Swallowing fear as I could, I stood up and was then returning to look at us, I knew I had won his.
Hence, p'alante , fourteen years of living go far. He never met a female, but it had dabbled in the odd male. It was a gay dog, preppy, and unsociable bastard as he alone was a dog-eared Illustrated Louis XIV. Only his love, Peter, a dachshund that escaped cachondísimo home to come to look every day. Was installed under the balcony where Romeo and kept barking until Don was leaning, at which point he proceeded to roll across the floor, roll croquettes, in celebration. The day I took Peter to live Diox know where Don is caught riding a depression.
The only female who managed to awaken the instincts was the "Lucky", a poodle Asturian ugliest enabling environment, which was always in heat when we got to Don to Podes. The times that the very fucked had me searching uphill and downhill, with the shepherds shitting in my dead.
- Well, Guaja ! Escapósete again dog eggs! Anda pa go home Roger, I saw him there and metes as caught in the corral with the whistles will give two perdigonazos !
- Well, the Lucky store, damn! Every day the same! Who do you think of it loose with the heat?
- The luck is on their territory, pussy. And yours e the extranjeru . Or take care you, or will end badly, do not forget as I say, buck.
But he never pulled his gun. Even after trinquer Roger, with his usual bad side of ostia, feeding and saying "look how guapín yes, shit in your fucking picture" .
And although Don was a townie, Mr adapted to any environment with ease of freak. Like when the neighbors asked us to take him fishing in summer, all stiff sit in the boat, plan a figurehead and the guy put up with 5 or 6 hours of rigor in the high seas like a champ and became more happy eight wagging his tail. Like when he threw in prao the barn and began to graze like cows, not seeing the purges that was the guy in August. Like when he asked with insistence to take him to the stone beach and returned from there made an eyesore, dirty, wet and without a tick more fit you in the body.
But then the very queer, he behaved in plan "does not look at me, I break" as we returned home. Required drinking tap water bidet, no buckets. Required that the nose is dry with a towel after quench thirst. Brush and dryer required to return the ride on rainy days. Required to sleep in bed with his head on the pillow and covered up ears (of
made when I became independent, started sleeping in the bed of my parents, between the two, I do not know me that married life would be, the impoverishment of mine). Was made Mari-Requirements. And he had a bad ostia and cockiness here waiting for you Manuel.
Don had a hell of life, which many people want for themselves, I the first. But lessons you teach a dog every day, if you can see, there are paid nothing, not even giving him a luxurious life as he did. There are debts that can never settle .
Once a Boxer wanted to eat you up in the middle of the street. My mother grabbed her, hugging him and protecting him with her body. Do not let go even when the boxer, completely outrageous, knocked her down and grabbed the jugular with its tremendous teeth. A few eternal minutes later, the owner of the infernal beast took control of his dog and got him away. The audience gathered there, which had no eggs to intervene only to yell at my mother repeatedly to drop to Don, because otherwise the boxer he would kill her, asked him why he had not ignored and she replied: is my dog, you can not understand " .
I witnessed not only get home I saw them trembling, crying and bleeding. But my mother still brought that look in his eyes. That look that proud and haughty, he said "rather die than let him hurt, you bastard."
But yesterday he could not do anything for you. Nobody could. Old age is no cure, relieve or cure that. And you had already seen everything you could live.
was a year somewhat deaf, rheumatic and prostate-made crap. Were tired, sleeping too much and we knew that any day could not wake up. Would have given anything because you had gone well, sleeping, going from a dream vacation to another final. I lost count of how many times I prayed to the gods that I do not think, not having to see me in the position to decide if you wore that damn shot. But it was not.
yesterday afternoon when I called to tell me that you had taken that yuyu epileptic, I knew that our time together was over. I clutched at any time to the little hope that the vet gave us. I already knew, just like you. Deserved rest. Deserved not to suffer even a minute. And I know I'll put up enough to enable me to reach the operating room to say goodbye to hold your leg and stroke your hair while you sleep forever. Ultimately, the decision was not difficult. The hard part now is to continue without you.
Goodbye, friend.
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