I get so tired of being last.

In school, I was often last picked for team sports. I understand why. I was truly gifted in the art of being inept at sports. And the longer the two captains took arguing over who had to take me, the less time was left in gym class to actually play the stupid game. So, argue on.

In the 80s and 90s, when the AIDS epidemic was in full ignorant swing in the USA, I watched my friends return a positive reaction to the HIV test one-by-one until I was the only one left. This may seem like a good thing, but picture yourself suddenly without any friends, your only connection to your past. On top of that, add the paranoia that any new friends you make will also die before you.

Argue on.

We've known our dog, Dempsey, was on the downslope of health. She's going on 13 years, which is a fairly old age for a dog in her weight class. Dempsey is part Australian shepherd and part something else, maybe terrier. She clocks in at 90 pounds, and she and I met at the animal shelter. When our eyes met there was no question of leaving her in the cage. She'd only been a part of our home for a little over a year when she had a stroke and lost the use of her back legs. Jon and I exercised her and worked with her and within a few months she was back to about 80-percent of her former agility. She would never run and tear in the park like she used to, but she didn't need assistance to get around.

This week her vet informed us Dempsey has a very aggressive cancer in her front left leg, and that cancer has spread to her lungs. He's only giving her a few months to live. She can't get up on her own. She yelps when she tries to move. I carry her outside to go to the bathroom.

We won't let her suffer. As much as I want to keep her going for my own selfish desire to not have to say goodbye, I know the right thing to do. With her eyes she tells me she trusts me to take care of her as I always have.

I'm tired of the debate. Stop arguing. Just fucking pick me already. Or even better, let's play something else. Yes, I still have a lot to live for, of course. There's Jon, my family, glass, carving, writing, work, new friends, our other pets, thick-crust pizza, thin-crust pizza, honey wheat-crust pizza.

But right now I'm sad about my dog. I'll get over the sorrow later. For a while I think I'll just be bitter and feel sorry for myself.