This getting old is something. I think I envy my dog, because my dog is sixteen, and she's limping, and she's still living, but she doesn't look at me like she knows. She's not thinking what I'm thinking. It's a cruel trick that we all know the ending.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I think, more than anything else, my dog's death has made me grow up. I find myself thinking about the world in a more serious way.