Goodbye, Tank

I have a long reverb draft saved but I'm really not in the mood. My aunt's little Boston Terrier Beanie, had a stroke yesterday morning and they had to let her go. Since my aunt lives with my mom, Beanie had been a presence in my life every time we went home to visit. She was a rescue, elderly, with Cushing's, mostly deaf, mostly blind, with a lazy eye and liver problems and the most horrifically nasty farts you've ever smelled.  She walked like a tank rolled, and we would always say how she saw what you did there... and over there. But damn, we loved her. She had spunk. My aunt poured love and money and effort into her and we watched her blossom from a nervous, timid rescue pup to a sassy, comfortable old lady that loved belly rubs and watching Wheel of Fortune. My poor aunt is distraught.

Night night, Beanie. We're glad we had you while we did.