Yesterday was a rough day. We picked up the dogs at the kennel and Sonny was lethargic. At the end of the day it turned out that he had some sort of lung infiltration which was probably a fast spreading cancer. We made the tough decision and ended his pain.
He was basically a really happy guy. He had a sick sense of humor and liked to play his jokes. He didn't always approve of the jokes Mike played on him, but he took that in stride.
8 years ago he was diagnosed with a heart condition. Everything I had read about it indicated that big dogs with this typically only lived about 2 years. I let him run and play and do what he wanted so that he would enjoy what life he had left. Well, he pulled another prank and fooled us all. His condition remained stable and he had his yearly appointment with his cardiologist who was always happy.
He snuggled a lot and I always loved that. He would steam up my thigh by pressing against me on the couch. Wiska liked to sneak on, but usually gave up his seat to Sonny. The two got along quite well and Wiska knows right now that something is off. He isn't sneaking onto the couch or into Sonny's crate. They lived together for years and Sonny, who was the brains of the operation, often shook his head at the antics of Wiska the Idiot.
There are so many stories to tell and over the next while, as I remember them, I will share.
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