My grandmother's dog Phil was put to sleep today. He started out as my family's dog but when he started biting my sister (who was 5 at the time) we gave him to my grandmother. They became the best of friends and loved each other so much. The last time I saw Phil was the day after Thanksgiving. He was so happy and energetic, especially for a dog of 13 years. He gave me kisses and jumped up and down and begged for treats. I remember when we used to go over my grandmother's house for brunch, when someone got up from the table Phil would jump into their seat and just sit there. He wouldn't steal the food or pant or anything like that, he just sat there like a little human and pretended to listen to the conversation. Phil had an obsession with tennis balls. His favorite was his #5 ball. Don't ask me how he knew the difference between all the tennis balls, because he must have had at least 20 of them, but he would only play with the #5 ball.
Last weekend my grandmother called my parents in the middle of the night and told my parents that Phil was laying there dying next to her. My grandmother tends to exaggerate a bit, so my parents waited until morning to have my grandmother take Phil to the vet. He ended up staying in the hospital because he had a liver infection. Then yesterday the vet found a tumor that needed to be operated on. My grandmother signed a statement giving the vet permission to put him to sleep if he didn't think that Phil could be fixed. My mom called me and told me they had put him to sleep when I was at the mall today.
I immediately called my grandmother who told me that she already missed him. But she said that she thinks he's already playing up in Heaven with my grandfather (who, my mother said, will probably think he's a stray since my grandmother got him after my grandfather died) and that he's much happier there. But she still misses him.