The hardest thing I had to do today was put Duster to the rest

One of the hardest things in my life is losing a dog. I love them. Can't help it. Comes by genetics I guess. I hope this true story might somehow ease your painjust a little.

My mother was born about 1908. I was born in 1948. She was raised and lived on a 600 ac. farm with 9 brothers/sisters and she had 13 dogs as a young woman there. Plenty of space, plenty of "table scrapes".

Fast forward to 1955, and I was seven, and dad had just retired out of the Marines after 20 odd years and a couple of big wars. Left Ca. for Ga. Broken meantally more than wore than physically. We came back "home" to the farm, or what was left of it. It was Dec. and S.W. Ga was cold and a 2 story house built before the civil war with 12 ft ceilings and only heat was a couple of pot belly stoves in BIG rooms. Did I say it was cold! My little terrier dog came home with us. He soon died of pneumonia. I was devistated. That was my first loss of a beloved dog. It has never got any easier but I have always found another dog to love that loved me back just as much if not more.

Love of dogs is genetic maybe?

I just pray to the good Lord, that I will see my dogs in the hereafter, where ever it might be.