I’ve been writing outside a lot over the last few days. While I write, Scrappy-Doo putters around in the yard. I can’t help noticing how much he’s showing his age lately.

Scrappy has been a part of our family for a long time. Belle doesn’t remember his puppy days – she was too little. But Bug remembers the day he came into our lives; it was her 6th birthday. She dressed up like Daphne when we went to pick him up. It was the cutest thing ever.

I’ll never get over how tiny he was. I used to carry him around in my purse to run errands. That didn’t last long after Brandon reminded me that puppies have accidents the same way babies do. It’s hard to believe that was almost 13 years ago.

Over the years, I’ve watched Scrappy lick away the girls’ tears and cuddle with them when they were sick. Of course, he caused a few of those tears too. He’s eaten his fair share of toys and stolen more fruit snacks than I could count. The worst was when he’d get into their crayons and poop rainbows.

It might sound crazy, but I miss those days. Scrappy’s not as much of a troublemaker as he used to be. Like the rest of us, he’s getting old. These days, his time is spent napping by our feet. He gets up to go outside or beg for food. Every once in a while, he’ll surprise us with a gentle game of tug of war.

Unfortunately, aging is the least of my little old man’s problems. He’s had grand mal seizures since he was about 3 years old. Last year they induced a neurological condition that impacted his ability to use the bathroom, which caused a bilateral hernia. Brandon has to physically help him use the bathroom, and when that doesn’t work, it’s off to the vet I go.

Let me tell ya, it’s not been fun. Poor Scrappy becomes sore and grumpy. He’s even a little snappy sometimes. The vet says it’ll be time to say goodbye when those vet visits become a monthly occurrence. It hurts too much to even think about it.

Instead, I’m trying to focus on moments like these. Scrappy-Doo happily soaking up the sunlight.

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