Just before daybreak, our eldest dog, Dolph, passed away. He was twelve. Though Dolph suffered from numerous longterm ailments such as Cushings Disease, the cause was congestive heart failure.
Dolph did not have an easy life. Found wandering around San Francisco's Lower Haight neighborhood in the Spring of 2006, we adopted him, and spent the better part of the past year becoming family.
Abused and neglected, bearing an unfathomable number of bladder stones (25, or so our veterinarian told us), records indicated he was abandoned by someone who'd recently moved up here from San Diego.
I have no qualms about stating that the last twelve months were the best of Dolph's life. Despite the threats he continued to face, Dolph held them at bay for as long as he could. And, for a short time, was truly happy.
Needless to say, this is a real fucking tear-jerker.