Mourning Bosco

Dogs are such good people. They shouldn't have to die.
   Fiorella has buried eight dogs in her life, and she still mourns every one of them. And now she mourns the death of Bosco, a lively little pug, who had to be put down on Friday. He'd lived a good life in his eleven years, even surviving a recent snake bite, but his medical condition (diabetes) was rapidly taking its toll.
    Son was sniffling when he called to give Fio the news, and she's been weeping on and off ever since as she remembers Bosco tussling with Sonya Dog when Son was living with Husband and Fiorella. The cocky little inkspot saw himself as the canine head of the household, and Sonya, a mere puppy, kowtowed respectfully-- until one day she suddenly realized she was twice his size and let him know it. The tables turned, but the dogs adjusted to the new order and still enjoyed each other.
     When Son moved out, the twosome didn't see much of each other any more, but, in the way of dogs, they still remembered their relationship when Bosco visited.
     Fio is heartbroken for Bosco, Son, and her own memories. Sonya has been all over her, like a mother consoling her child, but Fiorella also weeps for her because, as a mastiff, her lifespan has only a couple more years to go.
     Why do good dogs have to die when so many bad people stay alive?