[ WP ] From a dogs perspective , write about its last few days/moments alive .

`` Road Trip!'' 
 `` Road Trip!'' 
 `` Road Trip!'' 
 
 I want to yip and run. *Road Trips* are just the best fun. All those glorious smells and noises. 
 
 I ca n't yip or run. My hind-end does n't work as well as it once did. 
 
 Master snatches me up and cuddles me close to his chest, supporting my poor old spine against his breastbone. 
 
 We go into the car. Master rests me in his lap, just as he has done since I was a pup—when I could crawl into his sweater. 
 
 Mistress drives, as she always does, and—when we pass the roundabout—I whine. I know where we are. 
 
 We have gone to the veterinarian's office countless times. I know the route. 
 
 The veterinarian is a nice woman, except when she sticks the thermometer up my butt. 
 
 Master carries me in to the building, and we go into a room right away—instead of waiting with all the other dogs and cats. 
 
 Master holds me in his lap. The veterinarian pats my brow, speaks softly and calls my name. I raise my head, pressing it into her palm. 
 
 `` A stick,'' she says. I flinch just a little, as she pokes me with the needle. Sticks are not a big deal, I've had many sticks. 
 
 The veterinarian leaves us, Master and I. The room is quiet and cool. Master cries. And I'm so sleepy...
