Mom has some company

Gwennie here.

When many of you came to visit my mom at our house, you may remember being greeted by a barking but harmless dog named Casey. We adopted him in the middle of my 7th grade year from the Humane Society... he was timid and emaciated, but he had a big smile on his face and convinced us that he was to be the next member of our household. He quickly became a central personality of our neighborhood and the mascot of The Talbot Group, despite some unnaturally pungent flatulence.

I've been taking care of him since my mom passed, and I know he's felt that loss ever since. Despite Paul being the one who fed him and everyone passing him biscuits on the daily, he developed a special relationship with my mom. He never left her side, from when she ordered her first business cards from the basement of his first house to when she was landing A-list clients in the beautiful office of his second house. And when she got sick, he only took breaks from lying next to her bed to go outside or receive a biscuit from one of his many providers.

Today, I had to make the incredibly difficult decision to lift him up to doggy heaven. He's been eating less, he developed an irritating skin condition, and that tail just wasn't wagging anymore. Aside from that, I'm moving into an apartment complex that doesn't allow dogs. To get him adopted at his age (13!) and throw him into a completely new environment would've been unfair to him. So it was either put him to sleep today in my arms, with someone he knows and loves, or for someone to adopt him, where he in all probability would've declined even more rapidly, just for someone else to have to make that decision, and to die in the arms of a complete stranger. It was perfect timing, really... I moved into an apartment on my own for the first time shortly after my mom died, and I couldn't have asked for a better roommate than that old, devoted, overgrown puppy-dog. I truly believe he held out for his final duty: to keep me company while I slowly grieved and processed my mom's passing. I spent countless nights curled up next to him on the floor, bawling my eyes out while he just lay there and let me cry. Now that I'm okay and moving on, I think he knows his job is done.

Holding someone in your arms while they take their last breath never gets easier. But I'm comforted by the fact that after he passed on, the vet left the room saying "you made the right choice". No less, he is reunited with his one and true owner, my mom. I know that he's getting a whole bunch of love from my mom right now, and passing gas that makes everyone around him plug their nose.

Rest in peace, my sweet puppy Casey. I hope we gave you the life you might never have lived if we hadn't adopted you, and that my mom feeds you all the chicken you can eat.