Remembering Lincoln

Lincoln, my mother's 15-year-old black lab, was put down yesterday morning. While it was clearly his time (he was having regular diabetic seizures), he will definitely be missed. I'll miss his grumpy face always looking for pets, I'll miss his boundless energy and love for playing fetch, and I'll miss laughing at him hump his brother Harley in head; Lincoln was always evidence that homosexuality is genetic. I'm really glad I got see him one last time on Saturday and I'm glad he is no longer suffering.

I didn't expect this to upset me as much as it had been a long time coming (15 is ancient for a big dog), I had never lived with Lincoln like my brother, step dad, or mom and the death of his brother a few years ago didn't effect me deeply. But last night, after talking to my mom about Lincoln's last hours I turned on the television only to see an adorable black lab named Little Morgan on the Great Outdoor Games jumping off a dock doing what Lincoln loved best playing fetch and was overwhelmed with grief and tears.