Moose

No one should have to bury two pets in the course of a single month. It's really more than anyone should have to handle.
Monty's death was an unexpected tragedy, but Moose's, I suppose, was an expected end. That doesn't make it hurt any less.
Moose was the best chocolate Lab anyone could dream up. He was sweet and daring, he loved road trips and long wanderings. He especially loved the snow - he would wander around with his nose in it, making a path. Yes, he got grouchy as he lost weight and his arthritis worsened, and yes, I have a scar on my left wrist where his teeth were last spring. But somehow that all fades away when I think of him as a puppy, curled up in the birdbath.
Last night, it became glaringly apparent that it was the end of the road for Moose. His back legs had pretty much stopped working, he had sores on his mouth, and when you looked into his cataract covered eyes, you no longer saw the puppy that had never quite left him. We put him to sleep today, ending a wonderful twelve year relationship.
I suppose I've seen it coming since he stopped going upstairs, since his walks around the block exhausted him for the day ... since he lived four years longer than he should have. But it's still heartbreaking to realize I'll never hear his tapping as he walks across tile, I'll never again watch his eyebrows express everything he was feeling, I'll never again have him lick my face when I'm upset until all I can do is laugh.