I don't know where to start: with our pug's physical abilities or lack of them, with my own decisions or somewhere else. I guess since the issues with Roscoe are weighing the heaviest on me, I'll start with him.
As some of you know Roscoe is our family's beloved 11 and a half year olf pug. We adopted him at 8 weeks when I was 12 and my brother was 8. Roscoe was our first dog and I took care of him during the summer before I entered seventh grade I think. He has had his share of challenges: hip issues, breathing problems (both fixed with surgeries). And now walking…I don't know if we can get him what he needs, money wise. As I write this blog, I listen to his snoring along with the music…both are beautiful sounds to me. We have been through so much with Roscoe: traveling from Florida to Georgia during holidays, the move from Florida to Georgia. He loves riding in the car. We ask him if he wants to go "bye-bye" (or we used to before his hearing deminished) and he would get so happy. Or we'd ask him if he wanted to go "walkies," again he would get excited, his tail wagging as pg tails do: curling and uncurling. I feel like my heart is in pain from not knowing what the vet will tell us this afternoon…I am starting to blame myself, "I should have kept him in better shape" and things of that nature. I shouldn't make it sound so…final but I have a bad feeling. Kind of like one of our Guinea pigs, Whiskers. She was having trouble walking and we took her to the vet and found she had cancer I guess. When my dad made the tough decision to send her over the Rainbow Bridge, I went with him (as I have with every pet we have said good-bye to). But Roscoe holds a special place in my wounded heart: I insisted on a pug, a boy (he was one of eight with 6 sisters and one brother) and he was the last boy) and his name was changed after a friend accidently called him Roscoe and not Rocco. I heard that name and said, "It suits him. (Rsocoe just moved from his bed to behind a chair…it took him some effort I know). Knowing he may be in pain hurts me so much…I don't know whether to let him try of help him. My mom did mention if he doesn't use his back legs, they may attrophy…which I know is possible. He can't even move a few feet. I wish I knew what he wanted.
I am brought back to when I was caring for my grandma. I had to help her go to the restroom–which was a challenge–and had to feed her. Both things I am having to help do with Roscoe at this time. I think his appetite will be the last thing to…go I guess. He does love his food, carrots and other etible things. It has already crossed my mind, did God compell me to take a break from college because he knew Roscoe would need me? I would like to–bittersweetly–think yes. However, with that comes another question, "What am I to do when God calls Roscoe home?" I didn't handle it well when my grandma passed (I spent 6 weeks in the hospital) and my grandma wasn't having the troubles that come with lung cancer thank God. With Roscoe, I don't know if he is in pain…he can'ttell me…I would give anything for him to be able to tell me.
I need to go. He seems to need help with something (wish I knew what). Please keep Roscoe in your thoughts and prayers.

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