There won’t be much blogging from SeniorLand. When the ankle tumor on Byrdie got 10″ around, we made that hard decision and had her put down. She wasn’t moving around much and then she just stopped eating. Those beautiful brown eyes gazed up at us and we knew. We took her to the parking lot of a vet we didn’t know(another story too painful to recount) and held her while the life slipped away from her body. The vet came out to the Jeep so that was a blessing. I remember the day we rescued her from the hell hole caged prison she was in outside of Bakersfield–the thought ran through my mind that this last day would come. Ten years of the best dog to ever come down the pike was over too quickly.
How can there be a water shortage when so many tears have been shed? Mr. T wishes I’d quit referring to the Jeep as the Death Wagon but that last ride left a scar.
Two weeks ago I had thumb joint reconstruction surgery. Typing with one finger on my left hand requires more dedication than I can manage right now. Since the string of bad luck seems to be continuing, I think I’ll just hunker down and hold real still. So, I’m going to pull these camo sheets up over my head and whisper “See you on the flip side for now.”