“Hey, girl,” I said, approaching slowly. “What are you doing here?”
She tried to stand. Couldn’t. The tumor was too heavy. But she kept wagging, kept looking at me with those brown eyes that said “I’m a good dog. I’m a good dog.”
“Her name is Daisy. She has cancer. The vet wants $3,000 for surgery but says she might die anyway. I can’t afford it. I can’t afford $400 to put her down either. Please, whoever finds her, don’t let her suffer. Do what I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Daisy. You deserved better.”Continue reading…