Hazel, Hazelnut, Hazeltina

So, my dog died. When I was in 7th grade, we were living in Montana. It wasn't going great, because my dad was working for a cement company, and they didn't have a ton of work during the winter. He got a job offer from some friends of ours down here in AZ, so my parents decided to make the move. My dad came down here about three months before the rest of us. While he was down here he bought a puppy, a Queensland Heeler, and named her Hazel. She was this tiny cute little thing. Then she turned into a bigger cute thing, who would try to herd us when we went on walks.

The past few months she started getting really fat. We thought it was just because she was a pig, which maybe that was part of it. Then, the past few weeks it seemed like it was hard for her to walk. She couldn't get in my car, she tried jumping out of my parents truck and fell on her face. It was the saddest thing.

Then last night, she just wouldn't walk. We could tell the smallest movement just hurt so much. So we put her on their dogbed in the livingroom, and she laid there all night. My dad took her to the vet this morning. It turns out she had a tumor on her spleen or pancreas, I'm not sure which. I guess she had gotten so big because the tumor was causing internal bleeding. That's why it was so hard for her to move, she was just so weak. Because of everything, especially the pain she was in, my dad had her put to sleep.

She's the Heeler, with her face by my knee. Note how she matches Moses, her BFF/Hubby, the Basset at the top right.

It just breaks my heart. This wasn't anything we could have prevented. And the vet said that even if they had known, and removed the tumor, there was a 95% chance she would get another one that would have caused the same bleeding. The point she was at this morning, they could have given her pain pills, but by the end of the week she would be so dehydrated her organs would start shutting down, which is extremely painful.

Hazel was kind of stinky. She was hairy, and loved to get that hair all over my car. She was a food hog. She didn't have that great dog personality.

But I still liked her.

I don't know who I feel worse for- my dad, who is upset about it* or Hazel's 'husband', our Basset Hound.

*My dad doesn't get emotional. According to my mom though, he didn't take it too well.

I'm happy that she's not in pain though. It's like when a baby or little kid is really hurt. They don't understand what's happening. She just kept looking at us like she was wondering why we couldn't fix it.

Ugh. I don't want to cry about it again.