I went back and forth on whether to post about this, but I leaned for posting in the interest of full disclosure, and in order to avoid questions when we have family over at Christmas time.
On Saturday our sweet puppy, Sherlock, passed away. We found out a couple of months ago that he had a growth on his liver that only had a slight chance of being removed through a risky surgery. My brother decided to forego surgery, and was told that Sherlock only had a couple of months left.
Many of you know what a big part of our lives Sherlock was. My brother got him as a puppy and trained him himself. He lived to be 11 and a half years old, which is pretty average for his breed (German Shorthair). My parents' house seems so quiet now, and I miss Sherlock a lot, but I'm so glad he isn't in pain anymore.
I know this is all over the place, but I feel like if I tried to be more eloquent it would just come out trite. I'll just wrap up with this picture of our whole family last fall.