When my great-aunt died my mother inherited her estate including her dog. We'll call her Stinky to protect her identity. She is about twelve years old, has arthritis, and lives a simple life at my great-aunt's house. Everyday either one of my parents or I go over there and cook her a hamburger. Stinky is totally set in her ways, will not eat dog food, won't chase a ball, and goes positively ape shit when the telephone rings. Anyway, my mother is in Texas visiting my sister who is performing in a show there. Tomorrow morning my dad is flying down for the weekend to catch the show. I'm terrified that Stinky will pick this weekend to die and I'll have to deal with her body.
Hang in there, girl.