I had had a dog since I could remember. He was a pretty good friend and he was always there. He wasn't very active, but I didn't care, I enjoyed going with him on vacation and watching him roll around on the grass. I sometimes had to walk him in the afternoon. It felt like a chore. One day, our dog got really sick. He wouldn't move. So we took him to the vet, they did some tests on him. He came home the next day. He was sort of okay, but he got worse at night. He lied down on the kitchen floor and wouldn't stop moaning until someone came to see him. I kept getting woken up by him moaning, I would go there and pet him, and he'd quiet down, and I'd go to bed. Eventually, I fell asleep and didn't feel like going to the kitchen again to comfort him. My dad kept going, though, and the next day I learned that my dad had actually slept on the kitchen floor with my dog, just so the dog wouldn't moan. The next day, he went to the vet in the morning, and in the afternoon my sister comes home crying, saying that the dog needs to be put down. I went to see him. I pet him, I hugged him. He was in a roomy cage, covered in some blankets. After I hugged him, he fell asleep. I was watching him for no more than 2 minutes when he suddenly jolts and starts having a seizure, like he was trying to bite something imaginary behind him. It was horrible, as his eyes' third eyelid was still closed, and it was just a horrible scene. The vets took me into a room, showed me a 3d model of the tumour in his spine, which looked pretty cool, even in that terrible situation. They said he was going to be put down. I decided not to stay there and see it, so I took a cab home. That seizure he had was the last time I ever saw him. Right now, walking him wouldn't feel like a chore at all.

Sorry