Today my handsome little dachshund is 16. Officially, he could apply for a scooter license here in the Netherlands. While I think he would cut quite the figure in his muscle t-shirts (to protect his mostly bald skin) and a helmet that said ” Speedy” on it, he’s going to have to settle instead for continuing to be chauffered via bike.
Today his tshirt was red and we matched. It seemed only appropriate to highlight to the rest of the world that we have something to celebrate. Aside from his baldness, he’s still very healthy. He moves a little slower and he definitely doesn’t see as well but that’s not a bad thing. We just adapt and practice Mindfulness with Henry.
He and George had a delicious dinner (for them) with organic raw beef. It’s a better choice for them at their age than a plain double cheeseburger from McDonald’s. They will have it again next week when George is old enough to get his license. For George, we already have a helmet ordered. 😉
I know how fortunate I am that they are both still here and healthy. After they digest a little tonight, we will go on a walk so they can pickup birthday cookies from the cafes that know them.
My mom was a huge influence in what special dogs they are. Every day that they are here, I am reminded of the love and time that she put into their care even thought she would frequently say “They are not my dogs!” Committment issues 😉
On behalf of the Small Dog Rodeo, wishing you good walks, warm blankets and good food (according to your dietary preferences of course).
Let me start by saying that Henry and George are heading towards their 16th birthdays this month in good health. This is something that I am grateful for. I know we will not have forever. Everyday that I can put them on the bike and pedal to work is a good one, no matter what else happens that day.
Our household has expanded. L is back. I learned my lesson from last time (Slow DOWN) and have been remarkably not problem solving as is my usual habit. It seems to be working for now and we’ll see where it leads.
On Monday my favorite walking companion and jenever drinking company entered hospice. This is really difficult for her as she has absolutely no desire to die. At 89, the medical decision is that there is nothing to be done with a tumor except make it a comfortable end. I understand the medical perspective although I don’t like it. I want to smuggle her out of the hospice and bring her back to her home. I’m not the only one as two nights ago, she tried to leave there in the middle of the night.
Her cat, Smokey, is now living with us. Circumstances considered, he’s adjusting really well. Pickle has become fast friends with him because he thinks “woohoo, another tail to play with.” Olive is still keeping her distance. George gives him a wide berth and I am not even sure Henry cares. We have found him to be a loving cat and as long as you brace yourself before he starts pushing his head against you, you can stay standing. 😉
I’m not sure what the right word is to describe my current state. Volatile is probably the best one. There’s so much grief and anger right under the surface that I am either avoiding people completely or when I do talk to someone, I get into fight mode. Partially because everything seems to insignificant in comparison to the loss that I know is coming and it feels really unfair. Like aren’t there some other people that could take the exit instead? I know it doesn’t work that way but I wish it did.
I feel helpless and I hate that feeling. That’s the toughest one for me to deal with.