"In the early 90s, my family was living on the Caribbean Island of Puerto Rico. We grew fond of the Iguanas, and started feeding them cat food... which then brought cats and dogs. One dog had mange, a flea collar that was old and quite visibly too tight, but a happy demeanor... always wagging his tail. My Mom took pity on him and got him cleaned up. We called him Waggie.
When we moved back to the continental 48, we brought Waggie with. One of my most vivid memories is of my sister and I running through the airport to baggage claim (leaving my parents in the dust) to see how our dog endured the 2 flights home. He was just content sitting in his crate watching the world go by... then he saw us and seemed like the happiest dog in the world. Only Kentucky Fried Chicken could bring out that same Happy Dance.
Fast forward to June 21st of this year. The whole extended family is on vacation (Waggie too). Mom broke the news that at the last vet appointment, the vet discovered a small irregular growth on his side and that a blood test revealed late-stage cancer. He had 2, maybe 3 or 4 weeks to live according to the vet. Today (July 8) was 4 weeks on the mark.
This morning, Waggie had trouble breathing. Mom took him to the vet to see about medication to help make his last few days more comfortable. The vet suggested that the humane thing to do was to put him down. So thats what happened.
Here's how I'd like to remember him: Happy in just being outside.
What I'd like from Reddit though, isn't pity or sympathy comments... I'd like to raise some money for Save A Sato, who helps Puerto Rican street dogs find homes in the States.
If you have $5 lying around, please consider donating it to these amazing dogs. -- Or better yet, Adopt one."
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