Old Stinky Dog.

I'm going to write this now, because if I try tomorrow, it may very well be a jumbled mess of medicated words that make no sense whatsoever.

My mom, my sister and I have a dog named Taz. He is a cute mixture of pit bull and akita. He has pit build and face, but pointy akita ears and a curly tail. He is brindle and was dubbed "blender puppy" by my Aunt a long, long time ago.

When I say long, I mean long. Taz is going on 17 years old. His super dark sweet little face has gone white and his eyes have long since lost their clarity... and boy howdy does his breath STINK... but he is our old fart dog... Stinky... and he has always been the one man in our lives that has never hurt us. Now he is suffering and as his people, we are left with the choice that no one ever wants to make... when is the right time to let our little old man go? He is covered with bumps and lumps. His hips hurt him and give out frequently. He cannot make it outside most of the time... but he certainly tries to get to the door. (good boy.) He has lost the curl in his tail, looks confused, and is so obviously just... gone. So I guess its time...

I brought Taz home when I was in second grade. I'm pretty sure it was in January because I wanted a puppy for my birthday and he was born on Christmas. I crawled under a house to pull his fat little ass out and I carried him all the way home in my coat so he wouldn't get cold. He tore shit up. He chewed the noses off of our teddy bears. He made messes where ever he went. He was a litle terror... or at least to me he was because none of my stuffed animals were safe. I ended up moving to my Dad's shortly thereafter until I was 12, but Taz was always happy to see me when I came home to visit.

When I moved back in with my Mom, Taz was a little shit. Hell, he's always been a little shit. Just ask all of my friends who have had to chase after him as he was running down the street. He loved to run as soon as the door was opened enough for him squeeze through... and whoever let him out, had to chase him down. He also had a thing for the sock toys I would make him. Oh and shoes... while they were still attached to your feet. He would whip you right over on your ass if he was feeling playful enough. He frequently got into the garbage can, attacked the vacuum cleaner, took TEN YEARS to go to the bathroom while on walks, and would always steal your seat as soon as you got up to do something.

Taz was a real pain in the ass.

But he protected us. He is a very protective dog. I always felt safe with him around... and sometimes annoyed because he barks at everything. He is also a good companion. There are so many of our tears on that dog. Boy heartbreaks, fights with friends and family, or just a sad movie... didn't matter. Our dog was there. He shared suckers and popsicles and ate Mom's apple cores. He put up with "DANANANANA BATDOG!", scrunchies that pinched his ears together, and he let Chelsie and I wear his tail like a bracelet. He got sprayed by a skunk like THREE times!!!

God all of these memories are rolling around in my head faster than I can type. 17 years is such a long time for a dog... we are so blessed that he lived this long. But it hurts so badly to see him go. And I can't be there. Its not fair. I want to hold him and tell him it will be ok. I want to kiss his stinky face and pull on his pointy ears... but I know my Mom and my sister will be there. I know they will tell him how much I love him... funny thing is, I'm pretty sure he knows already.

I love you Taz. I am going to miss you so fucking much. Thank you for being the best dog in the world. Because you really are... and you always will be... the best dog in the world.