A really long time ago, not-yet DH and I went hiking. We came home with a 2 1/2 lb. Beagle/bull terrier/ wefoundit mix whose family had taken her litter to a popular spot before proceeding with leaving the pups on the mountain. She was the runt, and barely weaned, and we fed her some donated kibble mixed up with milk. She was about 4 weeks old. Sparky later made her scrambled eggs, which often had her asking to go to sparky's for breakfast. She moved to 3 states with us, and lived through several doggie dining disasters, a 6-week cross country roadtrip, hurricane Isabel, and not getting scrambled eggs for breakfast every day. She obsessed about unthrown tennis balls, could jump 6x her own height, and forgave us for having a baby. She lived with us for 16 and a half years, enriching our lives by making it messier, simpler, and funnier. For the past six months, she'd been unable to manage stairs, and slept most of the day. We knew things were coming to a close, but when we saw her outside with something obviously wrong, and the emergency vet suggesting very few options, it still seemed too soon. RIP to our sweet and wonderful and often very bad dog. We will miss her so much.
Eta: spelling. Congratulations amych