Life without Lester

A Lester-less house is a lustre-less house.  

Lester is the dog you see in the picture, back when he was ambulatory enough to get himself up and down the stairs. Once the legs went, everything else followed. Except for messing with the cats on occasion(his one remaining pleasure), ol' Lester didn't have much reason to get up in the morning, and would frequently "stay in his robe" for much of the day, only to get up at some point and eat and then leave me a few "keester eggs" to clean up when I got home. 

 And of course not a whole barrel of laughs for me either. The daily clean-up was getting to me(good thing the cats don't understand English or they'd have gotten realll tired of the 'keester egg' joke..), and just seeing him in such a debilitated state, and the pain and discomfort that goes with it. 
 
So this past month I had to make the difficult decision of having Lester put down. As I said, his quality of life was pretty much non-existent: just eating, sleeping and excreting- this last activity dutifully, assiduously performed inside the house(just for my clean-up pleasure!). We were both worn out, Lester and me.

And it was rough all the way to the vet clinic. Lester knew something was up, so he got nervous and stunk up the van pretty good with One Last Dump for me to tend to(life's parting gifts are hardly ever fruit baskets, are they?).  I got him there, said goodbye, paid the bill, and got outa there. There are some things in life you have to do quickly, and this was one of them. 

He was with me a good long time, almost as long as I've been in my house, so it's a big loss. A Lester-less house is a lustre-less house. At least this one's that way. So long, Lester. You're missed.