No more bulldogs...

 A few weeks ago I found Clyde in the back yard having one of his 'spells'.  His breathing became labored and we took him in to the emergency vet.  There were several things we could have done but at the end he still would've been 12 and a half years old with a huge tumor in his chest.  We opted for the best for him and asked that he be euthanized.

They honored the fact that he didn't like to be carried by letting him walk back to us and stand on his own while she injected him with the drug.  He sank back on his haunches and relaxed, probably pain free for the first time in many years.

We sooo miss him and one night I heard him bark when the doorbell rang, even though he wasn't there.  Hopefully he and Abby are somewhere fighting like they always did.

It's bad when you're short and can't
see out the window..

In his sporty racing jacket.  After all, a Florida bulldog
gets cold in Colorado.

He was my buddy during nursing school.  He and I used to sit
in the sun on the front porch and study...he studied the traffic and
I studied med surg.

Bubba's tongue was a tad longer than his face.

With his BMOC sweater on-sitting in the sun.

He and his sister in one of their more peaceful moments.