"Come here boy!"ÃÂ I shouted as I staggered into the garage. "Hey pup! What's going on?"ÃÂ I would always ask him, never getting a response better or less than a lick on the face. Today was not normal. He did not come running to me. There was something wrong with Ozzie.
"What's the matter boy? Do you want a treat?"ÃÂ I knew I could get him to come with that kind of talk, but yet, he staid in lying in is cushioned box. There was something seriously wrong. I tried everything. I gave him a treat, fed him, watered him, pet him, I even replaced the cushions in his bed. He still wouldn't move. Finally I gave up and went inside. About fifteen minutes later, I heard a hideous scream coming from my mom. Ozzie had just collapsed on the floor. I rushed to be by his side while mom called the veterinarian.
On the long ride to the vet, Ozzie laid on my lap, constantly crying. I wish I could have done something, but there was nothing to do. Her miserable eyes persistently stared into his eyes, and I would begin to cry and tell myself everything was O.K. When we arrived, the vet came out to greet us, and he took Ozzie in. We anxiously waited in the waiting room to hear the verdict. The vet came out with a very bad look on his face. I knew right then it wasn't good, and couldn't hold the tears from rolling down my face. He had had a stroke, and had to be put to sleep. I ran by his side. I didn't want him to go! I gave him one last kiss, and the door closed behind me as I left the room.