Last Thursday, John and I had a play date with Bubba while Christie and Brandt were at work.
We took a walk, he helped us cook, and all day long he stayed close by to shower us with affection. At 5:15 he jerked around and tried to stand, but suddenly his back legs wouldn’t support him. He finally made it to one of his favorite places on the living room carpet and let out one moan. Brandt and Christie arrived soon, gave him tender affection, and rushed him over to the emergency clinic. By 7:15 he was gone. The consensus is that he had a ruptured spleen. He was ten years old.
After buckets of tears, Christie and Brandt went to the dog shelter and brought home two pups—Daphne, a sweet mutt, and Chevy, a gorgeous German Shepherd.
