It’s getting close

I wanted our sweet girl to be able to leave on her own, but she’s always been a stubborn little thing. I’m afraid that we’re going to have to take the choice out of her paws soon and have Dr. Death come to the house.

She’s bleeding from her nose. It doesn’t appear to be painful, but at this point, she has to know something’s not right. We’ve babied her along, knowing that her time was short, but hoping that old age would take her before the tumor. But I don’t think it’s to be.

I’m dreading making the call to our vet for references, but it needs to be done. We can’t let her suffer.

14 years old, 11 with me, of good and loyal friendship. I hope that I’m worthy of seeing her on the other side of the Bridge someday.

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