Drove over through the bitter wind and snow to the barn an hour ago.
Commander looked bad. Make that awful. There’s no hope. I figured as much yesterday, but now it’s official.
The vet is making the arrangements for tomorrow. His former owner will be coming over to say goodbye today.
Commander is still full of himself, full of attitude and appetite, and as soon as I’d dumped fresh shavings, before I even had a chance to spread them, he slung himself over them to piss. That’s himself, all right.