No, this isn't a belated 'leaving FA, waaah.' journal.

My pet dog of 14 years, Charlie, is on his way out.
I've had a few dogs over the years, and it's never been easy to say goodbye to the ones that have passed on.
But saying goodbye to Charlie has been the hardest of the lot, not just because he's lived the longest, but because he's technically -my- dog. My baby.

I got him from a puppy, raised and nurtured him, fed and cared for and all the rest. And to see him there, struggling to stand up or sit down, looking at me with confusion as he can't understand why he can't run about, just crushes me.
His big beautiful brown eyes would be soul-rending enough on their own, without that silent plea in them.

I dread the days to come, as I know I'll look out at the backyard, finding a distinctive lack of puppy. The walks around the neighbourhood where other dogs have come to know Charlie. The others that walk their dog who fawn and adore over his gentle, endearing nature.

But I know it's his time to go, and gods I'm going to miss him.

Good bye, Charlie.

EDIT: And just like that, he's gone.