"The average dog is a nicer person than the average person." Andy Rooney
On this property too lies a pet cemetery. This is a little corner of ground behind the garage just as you start to enter the woods. There are eight pets buried there, six dogs and two cats. I had a hand in the last dog's burial. The Dalmatian, Lacie, was seventeen years old and extremely feeble. She required help standing, swayed on her feet and had to be carried outside to do her business, but still hubby could not bring himself to take her to the vet. It got much worse with her body steadily degenerating, many mistakes made in the house, and finally she was unable to stand. I was even then afraid hubby would be unable to let her go, but he finally agreed with a reluctance that was heartbreaking to watch.
The vet was kind and solicitous. We were able to keep Lacie in the back of the car wrapped in her blanket. I held her head while hubby cried and as the vet administered the drug, I could tell our poor old girl did not need much of it before she was gone.
Back home, at the pet cemetery, hubby decided the hole we had dug earlier needed to be deeper. I did the digging as he was so tired from the sadness of the experience. It was all exhausting for him; he had loved her so.
Lacie is lying on the property where she lived all her life. She was elegant in form and movement; the arrangement of her spots was admired by all who knew her. She was sweet-natured and in older age, seemed for all the world like a dignified old lady. Lacie slept on a human bed till the last year of her life and her winter coat is still hanging in the front closet.