GOODBYE DEAR FRIEND
My Friends;
It is with a heavy heart and a misty eye that I write this letter. I am afraid that I have to report the death of my loyal and trusted comrade, Sinbad. He passed on at home, indoors; peacefully without any major trauma.
Sinbad had a normal life right up until the day before his death; that day I could tell something wasn't right. He was breathing heavy, and having difficulty moving -- I figured that the tumor had enlarged enough to where it was affecting his spine. When I had to carry him into the house that evening, I knew the end was near. Through the course of the evening, I stayed up for the most part, drinking whiskey and comforting my poor dog (and myself) as best I could, knowing that the dawn of tomorrow would force me to decide between a .22 or the vet. Mercifully, he made it so I would not have to make that decision; after a few mournful and deep moans, he died in his sleep around 6AM. Sinbad lost his life; I have lost a faithful friend; and, I cannot adequately express my grief............
I called Mike up and told him of the night's events; he came over and verified that Sinbad was indeed dead, and offered to help me dig a grave and put him to rest. I'll tell you people, the hardest thing I have ever had to do was carry Sinbad's lifeless body out to place him in that hole in the ground, and then cover him with dirt; I was crying like a little child, but had the broken heart of an adult.
I'd been fairly good at manuvering around all these obstacles that seem to have been placed in my way this last year; not this one -- this one is forever, and there is no way around that. My true and faithful ally of 13+ years is with me no longer, my sadness -- inexpressable; but life goes on.
The irony is: Sinbad is having the last laff on me; after all the hell I have given him for digging holes everywhere, there I was, digging a huge hole for him! Poetic justice?