Tomorrow morning my sister-in-law is planning on having her dog Marlo put to sleep.
For years, I’ve mocked Marlo. She’s one of those long hot dog-looking dogs, and my introduction to her came about nine years ago, when my wife (then-girlfriend) slipped across the floor on one of her poops. Since that time, I’ve seen Marlo poop in the house, pea in the house, vomit in the house. We’ve never bonded much.
Tomorrow, however, I’ll be sad. She was my sister-in-law’s buddy for 17 years. As a new dog owner myself, I sorta get the pain. Last Wednesday I sat down next to Marlo and rubbed her nose. She’s a sad sight—spine speaking through her fat-deprived flesh; body bent this way and that.
Oh, well. There’s always a guinea pig …
