Thanks, guys. She was very sick and almost fourteen; the last three plus months were hard and horrible. I truly believe she is better off in the ground (I can see her grave through my window now), but it's still rotten sad. And what makes thing worse is that Bandit is almost fifteen (a fairly big dog, too), and I'm afraid that grief may tip him over the edge. That, or inactivity: his hind legs are giving out, and trotting around after Duchess was his main source of exercise. I'm thinking I may have to get him a dog just to keep him in shape.
On the plus side, my house will no longer be slick with mucous, pus, and blood. Soon it will stop stinking of death and decay. The fly population will drop. Silver linings. Big fucking deal.
