m wood pen

i like to draw

m wood bw chicago marshall fields clock

although i avoid math as often as possible, i can’t avoid staring at the fact that today marks the end of 1/12th of the 13th year of the 21st century.

what does this mean?

i have absolutely no idea.

this i do know: my darling cutest dog ever is ebbing his 14+ years in this earthly incarnation, as he snores gently by my side. maybe i’m more in-tuned to the passing of days, the count of the sweep of the hands on the clock, the flip of the digital clock that reports more time gained, more time passed, less time remaining, for our wonder dog, astro.

i’m not ready to wrap up my love for this loyal fellow into words just yet.  no, not yet.

astro and i have been hanging together for the past five weeks. literally, together.  diagnosed with a really bad thing, his years of leaping and hunting, guarding and dashing, are far gone.  his lovely, lazy, slumbering 98-in-human-years physique is mostly attracted to the couch, the bed, or the dog dish.

and who can blame him?

so the pickle for me is, now that the symptoms led to the numerous visits to the vet and old-timey surgeon, a diagnosis, prognosis and end-of-life plan, i have become his advanced age hospice care companion.  hoping each minute keeps him comfortable and capable, i know that one moment will come, when one of two things happen, and then, well, then i take the hellish final drive to his medical team.  a day i’m dreading and yet anticipate, all the while wrapping his every minute with the steady loving companionship he’s given to me nearly his whole life.

my job?  after everything he’s given me?  my children?  my family?  our dear friends?  his devoted facebook fans?

cuddle, feed, lift, scratch, massage, entertain, reassure, thank, hug, feed, feed, lift, cuddle and love him as i, sooner than i’d like, bid him his long, well-deserved sweet dreams.

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