Son of a bitch. My parents had to put their dog down. I was really fond of it. Mom named him Bo, so I immediately had to change it to Rambo because he was a big German Shepherd and had MASSIVE canines. Plus he was really active and if he was going to do something he was by god going to DO IT.
Anyway, he was a really good dog despite my parents not doing a whole lot of training. Him and my dog played together a lot and had a pretty good relationship. When my dad was in the hospital, I was taking care of him, and he jumped out of my pickup after a rabbit when I was going about 40. He cracked his pelvis and I had to get him to the vet and take care of him while Dad was in the hospital. That's probably where I developed a really tight bond with him.
He got to feeling better and was out at the farm a lot, being Rambo. A couple months ago, he broke his humorous...like shattered it. The vet did surgery and got it to probably 60% but was still improving slowly. It hobbled him pretty bad, but Rambo is unstoppable.
Well, today he broke the other humorous. He didn't shatter it, but he wasn't going to be able to walk for a long time, and his quality of life was going to be pretty tough. So they decided to put him down.
I'm going to miss big old Rambo. He was a great dog, and had a huge heart. But he was too much Rambo for his body.