The Jinx of 3's?

It is said that events happen in threes.

I'm not sure that it is specific to bad events but that seems to be the way it occurs.I hope it doesn't hold true this time.

My neighbor just informed me that they are going to put down one of their dogs next week. The dog, I believe her name is Sam, (I must edit. Her name, I remember now, is Molly)has lost her hearing and most of her vision. She has lost control of her bowels. They believe that "She is just miserable."

I am sad for them, they take in abused and displaced Burnese Mountain dogs or cross breeds thereof. They have been through several dogs and it is their dedication that keeps them sane through the horror that is putting down a beloved family member.

A friend of mine at work has two purebred Burnese. Her male, Charlie, only six years old, has been diagnosed with a liver cancer that was found after it had already metastisized. Last week the vet told her that Charlie probably only has two weeks left to live. I worked with her this past Sunday but now I am afraid to ask her about Charlie. It may be too late and she is much like myself in that she doesn't want a bunch of people offering hollow condolences which, while full of the best intentions, only serve to refresh the grief.

My hope is that Rowdy is not number three. If you throw in ever weakening hips from dysplasia and blood in the stool, Rowdy is in much the same shape as Sam. I keep looking for the sign that he is miserable. Perhaps I am in denial, but I don't see it yet. Yesterday when I got home we played an old favorite game while I was changing into my sweats. I mock slap him with a sock or the leg of my sweats, and he lunges at me as if he were to bite me but he never does. As I try to block him with my feet, he becomes more "aggressive" in his mock attack. This usually throws me into a fit of the giggles which encourages him even more. While the game is not as physical or long lasting as it used to be, he still gets that mischevious grin and that light in his eyes when he realizes it's game on.

I thought that I would be willing to trade Rowdy's lingering demise for Charlies swift disease process. Maybe I still would, but I would never trade our fourteen years of adventures together for six short ones.