My parents had to put Jake to sleep last week. It got to the point where he was having trouble moving and standing up. It was time. He was really really old. Especially for a shih tzu. I can't even remember how old I was. Had to be fifth or sixth grade. At any rate, a long time. I remember when he was just a puppy and we kept all his toys in this wicker basket. He couldn't get to the one at the very bottom. He got half of his body into the basket before he got stuck and then just started running as best he could to try to get that elusive toy. So here he is running all around the family room trying to get to that toy and is pushing the basket all over the place. Something you see on america's funniest home video. The entire family was just rolling with laughter.
I'm not an emotional person, but this was hard. Jake was my first real pet. When I was really young, my sister had a dog, Lady. A dog they picked up from the pound. I didn't have much connection with her. But Jake. He was the first pet I had that I really loved. I always loved it when he slept in my bed. I don't know why. It felt like a connection when he slept at the foot of my bed, or on my legs, or by my side. Wherever he was on the bed.
I'm gonna miss going home and having Jake there.
I had a similar situation about three years ago. My first real pet, a very fat cat named Pierre died. It was tough, especially to go home and not have him lying on my bed (where he spent most of his time). I'm sorry man!
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