By Rich Lindbloom
As I walked down the stairs at 5am on Friday morning, I took a nervous glance at the two hirsute beasts laying on their mats. Our Wheaten Terriorist had taken a turn for the worse recently, and had a growing mass on her back. The night before we noticed she was having a very difficult time walking, also giving up any interest in food. For you dog lovers out there, it had reached the time where you would offer the dog steak or ice cream, anything to try to get them to eat. Unfortunately, we all seemed to know it was only a matter of days before – pick one – Zoie, Zobo the Hobo, Dumb Blonde, Taco or Bird, would breathe her last.