A short time ago I received a phone call from my brother informing me that one of my dogs died. It's not S80 or Cedar, they are fine, and still kinda getting along.
This dog's name was (is) Joey. She was born Oct. 30 quite a few years ago. She was an old dog, and the daughter of my very first dog, Whitney, who passed away in 2001 at an estimated age of 13 or 14.
Joey's brother, Chief (or Cheese, as I affectionately call him), was the main reason I was never able to move out with her. I had longed many a time to bring my dear Jo Jo with me when I moved out... But sweet Chief would always cry and howl for her until I brought her back (they remained with my mother). I could never even walk the dogs separately.
I hear from my brother that Chief doesn't seem to know what has happened. (In fact, he says he's acting normal). Perhaps, since they shared the same kennel at night, he had his chance to say goodbye. We are still skeptical of how he'll react in a few days.
In her memory, here are a few photos of Jo taken just over the Fourth of July Holiday. They're not great, but they're all I have now...
Her sweet face...
Another shot, inside the Kennel... if you look closely, you can see the cancerous mass on one of her mammary glands. She had been taken and tested by a vet, but was not a candidate for surgery because of her age. My mother had planned to have her put down when her "smile" went away and she could no longer function, or was in visable pain...
She and her Brother, Chief... (You can't tell but he was 'kissing' her)...
R.I.P. Jo ... I had been looking forward to celebrating your birthday with you...
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