3 Birthdays and A Pain In The Butt
This past week my beautiful “puppy” Shadow turned 13! He’s so special to me. He ‘belongs’ to his “Mom.” I am so happy to have such a great doggy. We took him to the vet yesterday for his routine vaccines and the vet said thirteen was really good. Code for: ‘Wow, 13! Very old for a Lab.’
Yes. I know. But he’s still running around and for the most part, healthy. He’s a bit arthritic in the old hips. Eyes are getting a bit dim, too. It’s coming up on the annual hunting season; he doesn’t know he’s going to be staying home with his “Mom” this time. He absolutely lives for this time of year. We decided he’s got to stay back. He can’t jump up into the truck and do all that bird-chasing now.
I think I will take him to the groomer’s the day that “Daddy” and the pup leave for the trip. We’ll find stuff to do around here that’s fun for he and I. He’s my angel.
Happiest 13th Birthday, dear Shadow!
September is also the tortoise’s ‘designated’ birthday, haha. I adopted him in mid-September a few years ago, and that’s when I call it his birthday, too. Frankly, we can only guess at his age. Recently, he had a health problem and I took him to the vet — no easy selection of those that handle desert tortoise illness — had to call around and get advice first. Found a local vet and got Sheldon fixed up. I was tasked with administering injections every day for 2 weeks. The vet estimated him to be somewhere between 10 and 15 years old. The vet also cautioned: He might be a SHE! Too soon to be 100% sure. Fella’s got no fixed age and no fixed sex…fella’s got issues!
Sheldon is definitely feeling better now and back to being the little cantankerous toddler he’s always been. Caught him straddling a post just the other day, jammed up and high-centered. Typical for the little devil!
Happy Birthday, Shelly…
The 22nd would have been my Dad’s 77th birthday. I wanted to go to the cemetery, but I have been afflicted with a mean flare up of sciatica. A royal pain in the ass…literally.It’s kept me right here at home, in the bed, mostly this past week. That didn’t prevent me from thinking of him. I didn’t get the overwhelming sadness, either. Perhaps, it is getting a little easier to pass this day…
My kids took flowers and visited, instead. I sure would be lying if I said I didn’t miss my Dad. Oh…but miss him…I do.
Here is the obituary I wrote for him, printed four years ago in the local paper:
Happy Birthday, Daddy. I miss you. I Love You Always.