Good-bye, sweet boy...

So thirteen days ago, out of the clear blue, Egon bit someone. No one we know: a man bicycling by on the street. E got away from me, ran over, bit the guy, and ran back to the house.

After talking it over, and thinking of the sight of the giant bruise on that man's thigh, and thinking about how if he ever bit V, he'd break her bones, and talking for a long time with my dear cousin-in-law Colleen, who trains and loves dogs, Shaun and I decided we had to put our big white giant down. He has been more aggresive in the last year, just little things, but added together with the Big Bite, we felt it was too dangerous not to. It was gut-wrenching and awful and the only way to go.

It took many, many phone calls, and it's all such a horrible, sordid, nasty tale that I don't want to tell it again right now, but let's just say I think someone in the tri-county area needs to FIGURE OUT WHAT THE LAW IS so no one ever has to go through what we went through. But finally, this morning, we found an understanding vet hospital that helped us put our beloved pet to sleep without SCREWING IT UP. They were compassionate, respectful, and awesome, and if you're ever in Fargo and need a veterinarian, talk to me first because I know the one you should go to.

I'm sorry for all the yelling but truly, the 3 other vets we worked with are all staffed entirely by idiots. And it takes a lot for me to call someone an idiot.

Despite all this, we are feeling relieved now, and safe, and very sad and lonesome. I'm not sure I believe in heaven for humans, but by god, if there's a heaven for dogs, I hope our Egon is there, enjoying peanut butter sandwiches and lots of loving games of catch.

All I've been thinking about this week is that line in Dead Man Walking, when Sister Helen says "I want the last face you see to be the face of love." We were the last thing he saw, and every cell of me loved him. I hope he knew that.