I don’t like small dogs. She’s not my dog.

Years and years ago, an ex of mine bought her. When we broke up, I said I should keep her, because I have a nice place for a dog to live, and my ex lived in the city. So I did.

She’s a pain in the ass. She has a prey drive like you wouldn’t believe. After a few times of finding her catching a bird or snake, and literally eviscerating it, I started a routine of walking outside and checking for living things she could murder. Inside? She killed a lot of mice. Mice don’t fuck with me.

My Rottweiler was a dick to her. She pulled her around by the tail. Now, when she comes back from the vet, my Rottweiler acts upset and looks her over.

She has cardiac sarcoma. Basically a tumor on the heart. I spent $15,000 on chemotherapy for her, but a few weeks ago, a dog cardiologist (they exist) told me the tumor hadn’t shrunk.

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She builds up a lot of fluid in her stomach and her chest. I get her tapped every few weeks, so she can breathe okay. It costs about $700 every time. Yesterday the vet told me that if she ever feels pain, I can bring her to an emergency clinic. She’s on her way out.

I like this little fucking dog. She’s an asshole, and I identify with that on a personal level.

I’m not really sad, because I’ve had a lot of shit happen in my life, because you either lose things or you die. But I thought this little fuck would be around for a while.

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She’s a good dog.