Ode to Rhodes

We had to put our dog Rhodes down this morning. She was 11 or 12, had started suffering the last 36-48 hours or so, and it wasn't fair to her to keep her around anymore.

She was blind from cataracts, and would occasionally bang into stuff as she walked. She'd never hurt herself, but it was only a matter of time. So she didn't walk much. She had a gimpy leg. And she was a cancer survivor.

We adopted her from some church friends who were moving to a high-rise apartment in a big city. She was a pound puppy before that, in a litter of puppies that had been rescued from the woods somewhere. No one was sure exactly how old she was.

She was sweet,loving, and protective of the kids when they were little. She never asked for more than a head-pat or an ear-scratch. She was always happy to see us come outside, and politely waited her turn to be loved-on. And it was tough to take her for that final drive to the vet's office. I like to think that now she can see well, run fast on all 4 legs, and is adored by the Master who created her. But this is one of those days it sucks to be an adult and have to do adult things like this.