Now she's eating Cheez-its with Baby Jesus...

I received some very troubling family news a few days ago. What is most troubling is the manner my mother told me. About the family dog, Devon. Over Instant messenger.

BoyWndr49 (Me): Hi mommy! How are you?
MoCole56 (Mommy): Ok
MoCole56 : I have to tell you something.
MoCole56 : I'm taking Devon to the vet tomorrow.
BoyWndr49 : For what?
MoCole56 : Forever!

Is that anyway to tell you that your poor old dog is going to be put to sleep? It's heartless and mean-spirited. But I suppose it's befitting this particular dog.

Devon is a small silky-haired terrier, maybe 16 inches long from head to toe at most. A cute little puppy-girl. Till you get too close. Then she growls and bites and nips and barks. She's a menace to everyone except for my parents and my brother, Seanie. My poor boyfriend can't even be in the same room with her most times without her freaking out. She never truly got along with me unless I was the only person around or I was feeding her Cheez-Its. Despite her nasty disposition she was cuddly and sweet at times and I'll miss her.

I especially feel bad for my parents and little brother who still lived with Devon. After my older brother and I left the house for college, I'm sure it was an adjustment having the house so much emptier. At least at that time Devon was always following my Dad around hoping they would make her a scrambled egg or waiting to play with her toys at the slightest provocation, such as "where's your thing?" or "get your koosh." My mother would constantly sing to her about anything that came to mind. Mostly they were songs about how much of a dog Devon was. I think Devon was the only one who could make any sense of the lyrics. And Seanie was the only person under the age of 30 ever allowed to freely touch her. They had that indescribable connection between a boy and his dog, likes of which can be seen on Lassie or He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. Except Battle-Cat was a cat and could talk, while Devon was a dog and never did, at least not in my presence.

My mother called me yesterday having just gotten home from dinner out on the town. She was home all alone at the time and she told me how empty the house felt without the sound of her pitter-patter on the hard-wood floors. The thought of my lonely mommy sitting in the dark missing her pup breaks my heart. I hope they get a new puppy, one who likes people and knows not to pee in the house. When is it kosher to start talking about such things? I think Battle-Cat recently had a liter.