Eleven years ago we got a dog.
Well she got us.
She was blob of chocolate, and brown and white that reminded the kids of a S'More.
So that was her name.
Smooby Dobbie Do
Puppy Prewash (when doing the dishes)
She didn't do any of the stuff dogs are meant to do. She had no idea of fetch. Come was totally at her whim. Forget the idea of master, she was the queen of the we were her minions. Although on the up side one of her first royal actions was to actually eat my son's homework.
Sometime she would go out with with other dogs...
...but only to steal attention from their people.
She was bread as a gun dog but has far too gentle soul and hid from thunder and fireworks.
Kidney failure has run Smoo down. It has come to the point that she can't eat. She is sitting ant my feet shivering as I type so I have to go find a blanket.
S'More have been a benevolent monarch.
A friend back in the 70s' loved the folk singer Ralph McTell.
He sang a song about an Old Brow Dog.
It has always made me cry.
Today more so than then.
All those time I said I hate dogs,
that I don't love you.
Good night S'More.