last thanksgiving

in true chinese fashion, our turkey marathon begins the night before. 

HOM makes his farewell bird. we have old friends over. the talk flows easily, in Christ. the year has not been easy but it has been full. there is plenty to be glad for. it is a good night.

the table misses two places. the house misses one dog.

empty chairs at empty tables

he comes to us on a tuesday, a cheerfully rolling creamy hairball

who happily implants himself into our hearts and our lives

he completely skips chewing, hurries through toilet training

and then stays adolescent for the rest of ten lovely years

sit, stay by the pool in regent park

heavy breathing in the trunk of the car

heavy drooling over the back seats

long, long family walks to the dog park

bunking in with Clifford

earning frequent flyer miles

swimming, and not liking it

finding cover in a thunderstorm

running into glass doors

presiding over every homecoming

the outlet malls at San Antonio

the many different homes

indiscriminate love

unquestioning forgiveness

playmate comforter companion 

he was perfect

in pace

6.19.2002 - 7.21.2012

with not a mean bone in his body.

we were so privileged.

spent

how quickly a dog goes downhill.

he's slipping away.

idiot canine 2

this is what i want to say to Dog, if he only understood:

do you know what we do to human kids who refuse to eat? we let them go hungry, that's what.

clearly the entire family is being terrorized and held emotionally hostage by an entitled picky brat who would be getting his just desserts if he were human.

idiot canine

here's our latest, wildly successful attempt at enticing Dog to condescend to partake of his repast.

we currently have three different flavors of kibbles in the garage which he actually turns his nose up at. what do i say to the vet? i ask HOM. he's refusing his food. that is to say, he gobbles down his treats and wages a war of attrition with me over his meals. is he ill? is he dying?

canine lobbyist

looking at how Dog gobbles up his new brand of kibbles in contrast to the last month of food refusal lethargy and fears of inflammatory bowels and worse, it dawns on me that he was on a hunger strike all this time.

we exchange notes with our new neighbor. his dogs are nine and fifteen. oh good, i say, Dog's ten and we want him to be around longer. keep'em skinny, is his advice. right. bring on your next strike, Dog, and watch the old Science Diet make a comeback.

recovery

dad's biopsy is good

Dog's eating his specially-for-picky-dog food

the dent in the piano is repaired

i'm breathin' better.

spent 2

in the past 4 weeks:

all of this, then

unpacking amidst

a 66 hour power outage

in a record setting heat wave

HOM's extended business trip

my dad's hospitalization

Dog's finicky feeding

to boot.

mea gaspa.

Dog days

Dog's off his kibbles for over a month now. he comes and sniffs and ignores, new flavor entreaties commands and hand-feeding notwithstanding. he drinks and he gobbles up treats. he poops and he pees. he is neither yellow nor white nor is he in obvious discomfort. he is his goofy indiscriminately enthusiastic self. he is sweetly protective when i discover a roach. he sleeps a whole lot.

today, he refuses to walk after a block. his puffs sound more labored. he looks almost miserable. i want to hustle him to the vet.

the problem is, because you understand how limited doctors truly are with their speaking patients, you honestly wonder just how much a vet can do with a canine one.

long road to freedom

bathroom remodel, day 2 today.

what you see is day 1, which drove me close to noise-induced madness.

Dog isn't too happy either.

the four seasons

sniffles - sweats - sweats - cracks.
or, thunderstorms - bush fires - hurricanes - sleet.

currently sniffles. specifically, me she and it.

stupid Dog

we have our first spring thunderstorm. Dog whines his way into the bedroom across the area rugs and, following a fresh thunderclap, onto the bed.

Dog is soooo banned from our bedroom forevermore.

sign of times

gettin' cold these days.

a day in Dog's life

8 p.m. to 2p.m.

sleep

2 p.m.

lunch
wait for J2

greet J2 wildly on her return from school
wait for walk

4:30 p.m. to 6:30  p.m.

walk

wait for HOM to return

greet HOM wildly on his return

wait desperately for treat

6:30 p.m. to 8 p.m.

get treat

haunt the dinner table

evening ablutions

8 p.m.

repeat (vide supra)

room service on demand

personal butler included

whoever said it's a dog's life in a commiserating tone of voice

clearly was not a pet dog owner 

in the twenty-first century.

ready for christmas

here's Dog, all freshly groomed

in his new bed

and as ready as he's going to get.

a dark & stormy night

Dog spends the night pretending to be invisible on our bedroom rug. his sighs and grunts weave their way into my sleep.

Dog has refuge from the storm but now i have an entire library of dreams to recover from.

memento mori

he no longer sprints across the fields. he lumbers and stops and lumbers. 

ablutions 3

chance of rain today: 30%.

short of that time with hurricane Irene i haven't taken such an active personal interest in the weather forecast in months. 

ablutions 2

here is our living room rug, three days later, painstakingly suspended atop an assortment of table chairs and little tikes stools. chance of thunderstorm today: 30%.

as we keep telling Dog, it's all his fault.