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I couldn't let the day go by without mentioning that today is the 12th anniversary of the day we adopted Miranda and Greta. Every year we did something for them to commemorate the occasion - an extra long walk, a special treat, a new toy - sort of like a celebrating a birthday. Just over a year ago, I wrote this in an entry entitled "Living on Borrowed Time":
I realize that even with the special diet, over time she'll [Miranda] get worse until a decision has to be made. But nobody knows how long they have - I think the important thing to remember is to treasure every day and not take for granted those you love. Now that school's out, I've been lying on the rug with her more often, hands and paws intertwined.
We had eight more months together which is more than I expected at the time and never did I imagine that Greta would go first. Their ashes remain in a plastic bag, in a velvet pouch, in a wooden box, in the living room.
Still, it was a good dog day for some. Bruce took the now sleeping creature curled in a tight little ball on the couch to Elmwood and Memorial Parks while I went to the Farmer's Market. That was in addition to the two walks she took with us later in the neighborhood. Also, a few little meat scraps magically appeared in her bowl after dinner for the first time.
While Bruce was running errands early this morning he saw an older gentlemen walking his terrier mix at the park and pulled over. It was Jack, the little dog who was hit by a car a few weeks ago. He's okay! I love happy endings.
Tomorrow: Humane Society.
Although it seems that way, my life doesn't really revolve entirely around dogs. Lately, for whatever reason, I just find it easier to write about them than anything else.
I realize that even with the special diet, over time she'll [Miranda] get worse until a decision has to be made. But nobody knows how long they have - I think the important thing to remember is to treasure every day and not take for granted those you love. Now that school's out, I've been lying on the rug with her more often, hands and paws intertwined.
We had eight more months together which is more than I expected at the time and never did I imagine that Greta would go first. Their ashes remain in a plastic bag, in a velvet pouch, in a wooden box, in the living room.
Still, it was a good dog day for some. Bruce took the now sleeping creature curled in a tight little ball on the couch to Elmwood and Memorial Parks while I went to the Farmer's Market. That was in addition to the two walks she took with us later in the neighborhood. Also, a few little meat scraps magically appeared in her bowl after dinner for the first time.
While Bruce was running errands early this morning he saw an older gentlemen walking his terrier mix at the park and pulled over. It was Jack, the little dog who was hit by a car a few weeks ago. He's okay! I love happy endings.
Tomorrow: Humane Society.
Although it seems that way, my life doesn't really revolve entirely around dogs. Lately, for whatever reason, I just find it easier to write about them than anything else.