Goodbye Muffy "this post has nothing to do with ecology"

Muffy was the name my sister gave our black and white spotted terrier seventeen years ago. I never liked the name, sounded like a white fluffy cat owned by some old lady in an old Victorian somewhere. I now have a grey fluffy cat named ZaZa, hmmmmm. Jill was nine and I was twelve (I think, mom you can correct me). If you know the Creasy's you know we love our pets. The story of this dog started when my grandmother decided she needed a new dog. Jill, my sister, went with her to pick up the puppy. It turned out that Jill fell in love with the little black and white terrier and my grandmother didn't care much for it. After a few hours of crying, you know how little sisters can be, Jill talked my parents and my grandmother into giving her the dog. She was a great pet. She lived with three different german shepherds, we had one when we got her. She lived the entire life of Jessy, and now Kenzi is four. By the third shepherd little Muffy knew how to be the boss. It was funny watch the smallest of the three dogs in the house boss the others around. (She was more than efficient at bossing my parents around too!)

Well, all that said, they put her to sleep at the vet's office on Monday night. They had tried to do this about three or four times before, but each time they had come home with her. Their vet has a profound way of making old dogs live very long and happy lives. Once Muffy seemed completely paralyzed, but the vet found that she only had a slipped disc in her back, she didn't even need sergery, only some drugs with lots of side effects. By the end she could no longer hear, see, or walk very well, she was no longer happy. All she could do was stand in the kitchen and bark for food, unfortunately the vet said that was a good sign. I think my parents thought they would have a barking machine for the rest of their lives. Most recently she began losing weight and doing things in the house that should only be done outside (unless your a human).... (or a cat, they really have us fugured out don't they!) So the dog that we thought might never die is now with Sandy and Jesse, stealing their food and telling them all about this new crazy German Shepherd named Kenzi. (Don't comment on the theology behind the eschatology of dogs, I'm not interested any critiques unless you plan to be reunited with yours in the Kingdom Come).