I am in a pretty darn good mood this morning. But then, we Rat Terrier dogs are addicted to good moods anyway. The fact is, though, I am about to be put down in 10 minutes and wanted to share some final doggie thoughts, if I may.

It was a brain tumor that has put me down. So right now I'm at the wonderful Banfield vets here in the PetSmart store in Saratoga. We are preparing to bring an end to a life I lived so completely that I am now ready to go.

I just heard my Charlie and our beloved vet, Dr Akawi, talking quietly as I slowly walk blindly in small circles around the room. I interrupted my tumor-driven ritual just long enough to ask if I could use the computer on the desk nearby to dash off a few lines to you while they went over the process and procedures for sending me off.

Heck, it's truly no big deal to me. My Sugar Daddy, Charlie, however, has been crying and crying and ... well, we discussed my dying at length last night as we lay in bed.  I did most of the talking as I softly explained to a completely shattered man that
I was ready to go. The time had come to help me escape the raging ravages of my ghastly brain tumor.

I have a small head, you know, so a small tumor is all fate requires to do a lot of damage quickly to even a well muscled body
and well honed mind. Just three weeks ago I began to feel a bit sluggish and noticed I was running more slowly and enjoying it
less. Only a few days later my right eye died, soon to be followed by total and frightful blindness. My appetite and thirst
then fded, along with total loss of all hind quarter coordination.   My weeping Sugar Daddy carried me everywhere
as I lost my orientation, balance, and all sense of self-confidence. Hugs and kisses and strong arms helped, but functional independence helps even more. And I had become totally disabled. The tumor was killing me, and all too efficiently, I must say.

Dr Akawi and my Sugar Daddy Charlie reluctantly agreed with me that it was time to let me go from here to allow me to move on to there.

I let go alright. I dropped two peanut-size cute little poo-poos on the floor and followed that up with a big ole wee-wee that left a good sized puddle in the middle of the floor. (We dogs often do that when we know we are about to leave the present for the future. It makes for a lighter, faster journey -- we hope.)

Then Charlie got on the floor with me and propped himself up against the wall. For a 63yr old man grappling with a severe spinal cord injury, he did well. As his 7 yr old Rat Terrier service dog, I'll take a little 11th hour credit for his mobility if I may.

Once positioned, my Sugar Daddy gathered up my soft, thick sheepskin cushion I love so much, put it between his legs, plopped me on it and gathered me into his arms. I felt so relaxed and secure that I looked up and with my emotions, said to him, "It's ok. Let's get on with it. I understand. I'm ready to go."

No more running alongside his car. You'll need to go to Youtube.com and type "dogee" in the search box to watch me exercise his too-slow Prius. But as I prepare myself to be put down, let me tell you that running 4 miles and more at a pop nearly every single day for more than 5 years was heavenly. Oh how I will miss those mile long runs around the huge Saratoga Springs Sears Mall, or up those long, never-steep-enough hills, or along those quiet country roads. Even cruising along- side my Sugar Daddy's powered wheelchair all those years his spinal cord paralysis shut him down--suddenly so fleeting it all was. Too soon
to end.

Lord how I'll miss those delightful motorcycle trike rides. Sugar Daddy would strap me on the
rear passenger seat of our gorgeous blue six- cylinder Honda Goldwing trike (complete with canopy he built to protect me from the sun). I'd ride with my right front leg on his left shoulder and my left front leg precisely balanced on the left rear seat armrest. I was so cool. So content to be with my Sugar Daddy. Wheelchair, crutches, motorcycle, snowmobile, ATV with special seat for me .... as long as we were together. But it's all gone now. Ended. My poor poor SugDad.

Finally, I can't leave without sending a huge bundle of love, kisses, and joy to my Sugar Mom, my Ellyn Kerr. When Charlie was laid low by his brutal spinal cord injury, she cared for me day and night. I will miss you, my dearest. And for my Breeder-Mom, Marg Burz, so many many thanks for finding me my Charlie.

OK, I'm ready to go now. No more rotisserie chicken, or liver, or ham, or hot dogs or lamb chops, or roast beef. Damn, that menu was delicious, day in and day out, year after year. Yummy, running for miles and miles and then being cooked for three
times a day! (Oops, better scratch "damn," given my present circumstances, don't you reckon?)

Charlie is hugging me now, gently kissing my nose, and stroking my neck. We're ready. All the last minute cuddling feels so good, but then those drippy, salty tears -- are they really necessary, SugDad? Lordy, lordy, I'm blind, can't eat or drink,
my rear legs are dead, and that tumor on my brain even started hurting this morning. I was not living these last two weeks, only existing at best. So let's get on with it, I'm ready to go. My poor poor Sugar Daddy. I have loved you so much, my big ole baby. Oh how I love you.

My Charlie did promise to share with you his poem he whispered to me as we snuggled with uncommon love and security together in bed last night. Please let me leave you with it....

With that, an injection was given through Coogee's right lower leg vein. Two or three minutes later SugDad sensed a warmth and look of serenity wash over Coogee. Then came the second injection and Charlie felt his heart stop almost immediately. Coogee was free. He was gone. Lucky doggie!

Wiping away streaming tears of shattering loss, Charlie unwrapped his arms, released Coogee to assistant Mark, slowly struggled to his feet, collected and folded Coogee's favorite sheepskin blanket, picked up his cane and left. "Now what" was all he could think as Coogee's Sugar Daddy wobbled back in tears to an empty home filled only with the now endless needs Coog had left behind. Amid unbearable spinal cord pain and unanswered pleas for Coogee to return, the question will arise, time and time again: Now what -- and for how long.