I had a bit of meltdown last week. I got busted by the dog catcher, & Zephyr had a small scare from eating too much grass at the river. A trip to the vet, some “as-long-as-you’re-here” blood work, some slightly scary news, but nothing frantic, immediate, just a real wake-up call that Zephyr is indeed getting old. I can’t bear the thought, but then I’m getting older too.
My time on Twitter has brought me–us–a very sweet new friend. Although we’ve never met face-to-face, she’s just the kindest person. She watched my meltdown, my nervous freak out that Zephyr was getting old & I just couldn’t bear or stop the clock! (insert panic).
Today, I got a surprise package in the mail from her: “Old Dogs are the best dogs“. The photos would make the most stoic soul weep. I’ve already reached for the Kleenex, twice.
Thank you Suzanne. You have a very big heart,
Zephyr, not really interested in the photo, so much as the taste of the book, gave it a lick. At just about 12 years old, he is moving into the spry, yet senior, citizen department. Although very distinguished, that muzzle used to be very dark.
Forgive that leash. I hate it. He hates it, but he’s been wandering off a bit. I find him standing out on the front lawn or the neighbor’s back yard. Not horrible, but a few weeks ago he crossed the street and the leash came out. We’re still adjusting.
After a nice walk this morning and meeting quite a few dogs along the way to play with, Zephyr is sprawled out on the cool pavement. The temperature is supposed to be 80 degrees today. We don’t do heat very well. I like big blue skies, but we both like chilly weather. We should move back to the beach.