[ WP ] You are an old , faithful dog who is about to be put to sleep .

Every muscle ached. I vomited on the floor yet again. Normally John would yell at me for this but there was something different going on now. He came over and cleaned up for me. I tried to get up but it was just too difficult. He picked me up and I winced at the pain, and then growled. I never growled at John, but my instincts kicked in. I felt bad and fought through the pain. John would never hurt me and was no threat to my survival. He was a good master. He always petted me, and gave me food, and threw ball for me, and took me for walks. A man like that was nothing to fear. John was nothing like my first master who would hit and shout at me for no reason. The man who would keep me in the house all day long until I could no longer stand it and peed or pooped. I would try to hide but when he would find the mess he would hit me. John was so much better than that man. 
 
 John carried me to the car. A ride was just what I needed to feel better. It was strange though because there were no seats now just my bed. We drove for a long time. He put the window down in the back. I smelt everything, cats, roadkill, other dogs who had marked their territory. The whole time John told me what a good boy I was and how much he loved me. I thumped my tail in appreciation. I wanted nothing more then to get up and nuzzle him, but I simply could n't. After a long while I began to smell the awful scents of other dogs fear, and even death. I knew where we were going now. I whined a little bit hoping John would turn around. The place where we were going was where the man with the pointy thing would take it and stick into my body and cause me pain. I did n't want to go there. More pain was the last thing I needed right now. We pulled up the scents were stronger, and I whined more. 
 
 `` Please John do n't make me go in there.'' He petted me and picked me up again. I yelped from pain. He told me I was a good boy. I used all my energy to move my head to lift up and lick him on the face, and in that brief instant it was like old times. Before everything hurt. Before when I could play ball, and run, and go on long walks. It was like before when OZ was still here and we would run, and play and chase each other around the house. John would sometimes scold us for being too rowdy. But OZ had been gone for a long time, and I had n't been able to run for a long time. 
 
 John carried me, and put me down on a big table. The smells of terror and death were so close, and so overwhelming. I whined while he and the man with the pointy thing talked for a long time. John was sad and tears came down his face. I felt bad. I never liked seeing John cry which he rarely did. I licked his hand. he petted me and I thumped my tail. The man left and shortly came in with a needle and I whined `` please John do n't let him do this.'' John told me I was a good boy and said some other words I did n't understand. The needle hurt, and I yelped. 
 
 I was glad it was over. Now me and John could go back. But for some reason we stayed for longer. I got sleepier, but the pain began to fade away. When I wake up all will be better I thought. John was still crying and petting me. I licked his hand trying to make him feel better. Trying to make him understand that when I woke up everything would be better. We'd be able to go for walks, and play ball, and I would n't vomit on the carpet anymore. I got sleepier and sleepier. My vision blurred I gave John one... last... thump.
