I wish I could be more giddy about Siegel winning ((I didn't even stay the entire time; I left before it got way exciting)), but I can't.

My dog is dying. She's really sick; apparently she has been for a little while, but none of us knew. I yelled at her the worst I ever have several days ago because she jumped in my car while it was raining and wouldn't get out. She kept acting really strange and it only annoyed me even more. I never thought she was doing it because she was sick.

She followed my brother home May 1993. We put signs up for a found dog, and only one responded. When my dad and brother took Quincy to the house to give her back, it wound up not being the right dog, so we wound up keeping her. Jeff said he remembered seeing her ((before we got her)) being somewhat abused by her previous owner. I guess he didn't want her back. Maybe us keeping her prolonged her life.

I went outside after I got home last night to talk to her. She was wrapped in a blanket with uneaten food in front of her. She hardly moved. This was enough to tear me to pieces as I told her I was sorry for yelling at her and that I loved her. It's all I could say. . .

Twelve years, guys. It was a month before my 7th birthday when we got her.

Twelve years.

2/3 of my life.

I've been crying off and on since last night, and it's a completely different cry and feel than anything/one else I've ever lost. My tears are huge, almost like those of children.

They're not kidding when they says dogs are "man's" best friend.