We saw off another old mate this week. Gulliver. One of two brothers we rescued from a wild litter shortly after Thomas was born. That would make him and his bro more than eighteen years old.
Sadly, Gully won’t see nineteen, or even Christmas.
Like most of our furry friends, he loved the Santa Season. All of a sudden there was more ham, all the time.
Our old Lab, Sophie, reached the end of her long walk this week. It’s been pretty hard concentrating on work ever since.
I’m kind of hoping this eulogy I wrote for her over at my other ‘stack might help.
Sorrow is a lake, fathomless and wide, but grief is always a cascade. It roars. It sweeps all before it. Grief ever threatens to carry us under.
There is so much truth here. My thanks to Gregg Goriss for the tip.
Getting a migraine at my desk, I had an exciting moment when I stood up to go get some nurofen. Both legs were asleep and collapsed eccentrically underneath me. I started to fall and realised I was probably going to break a limb. I had to perform a forward roll off the small raised platform in front of my bookshelf, over the sleeping dog, onto a hard concrete floor. Worked perfectly! (Except for a broken thumbnail.
