Family Matters, Post #2, (The Bad News): My family's dog is dying. Turns out that Ozzie (never let a party-crazy, rock-obsessed sister name a dog after a hard-rock musician) has cancer. And the vet doesn't think he'll survive a month longer at this point. He's still playful and alive and kicking, but the truth is coming soon. And I'll never see him again as I won't be back home within the next month. It's very, very sad and hard. And I also know that my parents will never again have a "family dog" for us to enjoy and hug and love when we're back home. And that's sad and hard too. And will be especially hard next Christmas when I visit and there's no Ozzie and there's no Freckles (our childhood family dog) and there's no December (our childhood family cat) and there's no Flash (our childhood family turtle) and there's no pet whatsover and the end is here and now and we're all alone. And that's sad and hard and sad and hard and.... Ozzie was a great dog, even if he was too big for his own good. He had the sweetest, most gentle personality. And he loved each of us, even those of us who rarely saw him except for that annual Christmas visit. And he was oh-so-lovable back. And it's all so sad and hard to take.