Sonny, or Sonjamin W. Franklin as I liked to call him, was my dog for about 15 years, until he died today: August 17, 2013. I got a call from my mom earlier today and she told me that they had to put him down because he was so weak he couldn't even stand on his legs. It's only been a little over a week since I left home and moved to Grand Rapids, and the last time I saw him he was his usual, crazy, energetic, going after dogs four times bigger than him self...so it came as a bit of a shock to hear that he wasn't even able to jump from the floor to the bed last night. Sonny had a long and from the way he reacted whenever he saw me and my family, I know that he had a joyful and loving one...but it's kind of sad how quickly things can deteriorate when living things hit old age. I wish I could have said goodbye to him, but part of me is happy that the last memory I have of him running up to me when I get home as if he weren't but a fluffier, more rugged version of the dog we brought home all those years ago.
Love (bark translation),
Andrew
