Goliath is doing ok.
He has diarrhea, probably from the chemo.
He hasn't played with his balls or squeaky toys in the last month.
We have gotten to play with a practice fishing lure he likes.

Brad has this heavy hard orange plastic thing as a practice lure on his fishing rod.
Goli likes to chase it. So the game is to throw the cast out, and slowly bring it in teasing Goli with it. Goli sometimes catches it and shakes it around his mouth.

We want to tape him playing this game sometime this weekend.
He doesnt run after it quite as much just recently. More slow.
Since the last chemo on Tues, he is still eating, but not all his stinky canned dog food. It might be cause of the diarrhea though.

He doesnt jump up on the bed with the ease he used to, its too much work now.
He still wags his tails for a pat on the head.
If and when I think its near the end, I want to take a few days off of work and spend a couple of days with him before, and I will probably need a few days after to pull it together.


Sandy
Sandy was my first dog.
I got him for my birthday.
I picked him out from the Humane Society.
He was a small dog, a weird poodle and sheepdog mix.
I named him Sandy because of his color, but everyone assumed I named him Sandy after the dog in Annie, since we had just gone to that show recently.
Sandy was a good sport.
I put him in a basket on my bike and go riding.
I put him in a baby stroller with a bonnet on and pushed him around.
He pulled me along when I went rollerskating.
He slept with me.
When he got loose, it was tough getting him back. He would stop till you got close and then run right when you think you had him. It was a game to him...but just really pissed us off.
So usually when he got loose, I had to get in the car and drive slowly with the door open because he loved car rides, and would hop in.
He had a very disgusting habit of scooting his shit covered ass across the carpet to clean it off.
His fur grew in messy curls, We cut him short every summer, he would look like a wet rat. His fur made him look so much bigger.
Once when visiting Brad at his apt, Sandy and I walked up the steps to the 2nd floor apt. We got to the top, but Sandy kept walking even though there was no floor left to walk on and walked right off the porch and fell down into some shrubbery.
Luckily the shrubs cushioned him, and he was fine just shaken.
Brad wasnt scared that the dog got hurt as much as he was scared he would have an upset girlfriend to deal with if her dog was hurt.
Sandy wasn't the brightest dog.
As he got older his sight and hearing started to go a little bit.
He was too old to get put under to get his teeth cleaned, and started to get a super nasty yuck mouth.
He also liked to lick himself....A LOT.
So he would lick his yuck mouth stench all over his little stinky body.
I no longer wanted kisses from him, or him breathing to close to my face...it really was foul.
Brad & I got a house a few years before we got married. Whenever I brought Sandy over, he walked into walls since he didn't know the layout and peed where ever he pleased.
Sandy never tried to get on Brad's good side, and pissing all over the place didn't help.
So Sandy stayed with my mom. His territory that he was used to.
Just a few months after we got married, Sandy started to really go downhill. Not eating, peeing everywhere, etc. Not even wanting to really move. He was like 15 years old. We decided it was time to put him down, more like he decided and just let us know. You could tell he decided to die. My mom and I couldnt take Sandy to the vet to do it. Brad did it for us. We had him take his blanket. The vet said he would bury him at a pet cemetery and bury him with his blanket for us.
I cried for 2 weeks, I couldnt even talk about it.
I loved Sandy, but I also felt really guilty. I felt bad I didn't spend more time with him. That I was so put off by his stink that he didn't get more love that he deserved. I felt like he decided to leave when I got married, and moved out.
I kept a picture out of him with his collar laid out right in front of it for a few years. I let Goli smell my stinky little dogs collar, to see if he remembered him. They met a few times, but Sandy was scarred of Goli.
When we moved here to Chicago, I finally got rid of his collar.
There is a framed picture in our family room of Sandy in my lap, and Goli in Brad's lap sitting on a sofa at my mothers house.