"I am not a dog person!"

"I am not a dog person!"

That's what I kept saying to my then fiancee Amy. She pestered me for months to get a dog and I can honestly say, I didn't want one. It would be too much work, to expensive, we'd have to worry about dog sitters when we traveled, yadda yadda. I could rattle off another hundred reasons why I didn't want a dog.
But alas, I finally gave in to her nagging (like any smart man knows he must do) and agreed that once we got married we could get a dog.

So after we were married, Amy tells me she saw an ad on CraigsList from a lady that was looking to re-home her nine year old Corgi (which I'd never heard of before) . She was a doctor and had come to a point in her career that she just couldn't give him the attention he deserved.

We set up an time for her to bring over this "Corgi" so they could meet us and see if we could provide a good home for him.
The minute I saw Dewey jump out of the back of their car and run up to our front door, I knew we had found a new family member and I believe HE knew he had found a new home.

I can honestly say I don't even remember any kind of a transition period after we got him. He just fit right in. He slept right next to the bed, followed me around like we had been best friends for years.
He knew as well as we did that this home is where he belonged.

If you never got a chance to meet Dewey, he rarely stopped smiling. That fat bastard's energy level was through the roof and, up until three months ago, people rarely believed he was so old. It's hard to explain. He was so puppy like, but when you really looked at him, he seemed like an old soul. Like there was a lot more behind those brown eyes than just a dumb dog.

He was a dork. He was clumsy. He was stubborn as all get out. He was adorable. He was noble.

He was my best friend and he saw me through a lot of hard times. I can't imagine how I could have dealt with the past two years without him by my side, always eager to go for a walk or let me pull him around in the baby trailer with my bike or just lay next to me and look at me with that kind of love only a dog can give.

Yesterday I called in sick to work (something I don't typically do). I was feeling a little under the weather and figured I needed some rest or something. I could have gone in and slogged through the day, but I didn't. I stayed home and did nothing. I hung out with Dewey and Tex and we had a great day, full of doing nothing but enjoying each others company, playing in the backyard and napping.

Funny how things work out. 

He had a seizure this morning at 5am.

I rushed him to the emergency vet and after looking him over, the vet said the could run tests etc that would be at least $1500 to start. And then, who knows if that would even help.
So I did the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I checked the box on the form refusing treatment and agreeing to euthanasia.

I stroked his face and rubbed his ears just how he liked as the doctor put him to sleep and I cried like I've never cried before.The doctor was so wonderful and knew to say all the right things. As I sat next to the grave I dug for him, I took off the lid to the box the vet had put him in, not knowing what to expect, but knowing that I had to see him one more time. They had wrapped him in a cute blanket and he looked like he was sleeping.
I put his favorite squeaky next to him and I sat there and petted his face sobbing uncontrollably. Tex was sitting next to me and let out a little whimper.

My house is quieter today and there is only the pitter patter of one set of paws on the hardwood, rather than two.Tex will take care of me, and for that I'm thankful.

I guess I am a dog person after all.