Not ready for Bo to go.

In the last week and a half; three friends have had to put their dog to sleep. Tomorrow, I have to do the same for Turbo.

I was handling it so well, until this morning, at Panera when I was texting Mom about my car and how expensive it was [because I can’t afford it…] I was crying in Panera. And I haven’t even gotten tires, yet. Or groceries. I have 1/8th of a tank of gas.

I hate this part of being a pet owner. I know he’s sick, really sick, and I know it’s time, he didn’t spaz out when I came in last week. I’m just not ready.

This is the dog who scratched at my door and woke me up when I was seizing in my bed. Never left my side – other than to go out to go potty – when I got home after the accident for nearly two days.

I was really sad about this when we had to for my dog, Copper, but this is a whole different thing. This dog, he saved me. He truly saved me. I don’t know how else to explain it. Other than my two seizures in college, he was with me for the rest.

I’m just not ready.


Not ready for Bo to go.

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