I’m sorry to say that when they opened Springer up they immediately saw the problem, a massive tumor on his bladder. A human would have survived as they could just remove the bladder and use a bag externally, but that isn’t possible with a Dog, so they let him continue sleeping until he finally died.
My thoughts go to my parents and my Sister at this time.
Thank you for all of your support
Matt.
DearDiary.Net is proud to announce that there is now 20 Megs of FTP space is now available for Plus account holders. The space can be used for anything that is legal, that you want to put onto your diary – this could be music (though you must make sure you have the copyright holders permission),…
In a few days DearDiary.Net will be 5 years old… On that day in 1999, we served about 100 pages, most of which I suspect were me and Matt playing around… Today, in the last 20 minutes, we’ve served 12,467 diary pages alone, that’s not including pages such as the front page, or reader comments…
If you’re reading this, you’re talking to our new server, in a new datacentre, on a new hosting provider… Hopefully everything works OK – some of the ‘user data’ is still being copied across so you might not see your proper index texts or individual buttons for a few more hours – but they’re coming…
The removal of entry of the week has prompted some good discussion, like any change that is made to the site. In this entry I shall try to answer some of the issues raised in Reader Comments from the previous entry. The notify list issue raised by InStitches was a bug and is now fixed…
This subject comes up occasionally, and I’m just going to re-iterate what has been said before… We will not be deleting old diaries unless the author specifically asks us. The aim of DearDiary when it was originally started still holds true and that is to chronicle the passage of time through the eyes of ordinary…
Sorry to disappoint you buddy but there’s more coming too. Its called choice. Its called freedom. Its called the ability to tell jerks you no longer wish to listen to their insensitive, overactive drivel. Its called choice. I said that already. But I say it again. Its called choice. I choose not to ban comments…