Rowdie dog has cancer.
It's not treatable and it is aggressive.
Now, our job, as his people, will be to determine when to let him go.
Before that happens, we are determined to show him as much love, affection, and attention as a big yellow dog can possibly stand, and, I'm focusing on that goal rather than on what comes after.
How do you thank a furry friend for ten years of face licks, enthusiastic greetings at the door and cuddles on the floor? How do you repay him for the fierce protection of your children or for loyal companionship in the garden (he was the only one who never quietly disappeared from beside me when there was weeding to be done)?
You love him right to the very end, that's how.
So, that's the plan.
Cancer sucks.
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