Sunday, December 19, 2010
We're off to the mall. aaaarrrrgh. I am hoping that the spirit will take me to a better place. I'm not a mall shopper under the best of conditions, and the Saturday before Christmas is not the best of conditions. We're also bringing Allison with us, as she has some shopping to do as well. The dogs have enjoyed a lovely morning, taking their walks outside in the 4 degree weather, coming right back in to the toasty warm house, and being served cookies and treats. I do feel the spirit when it comes to the dogs. I am accutely aware that this is most likely our last winter with Jake, and unless something miraculous appears in our option pool, it's a sad time for me. We can't even really talk about it to each other, it's just too painful. And so, we enjoy each moment with our friends and hope that tomorrow is a better day for him. Bailey is confused in his buddy's inability to run and frolic in the snow, which is what he is doing every chance he gets. For a southern dog, he doesn't appear to be too fazed by the temperature. He's mostly a black and white flash passing quickly by the door. He bounds up the steps when he's ready to come in, the same six steps that take Jake a few tries before he's able to make it up. We've discussed the possibility of a ramp, because Jerry is carrying the 120 lb. dog down. (Go Jerry) He's able to make it up (Jake, not Jerry, I assumed you knew Jerry was making it up) but the incline would probably be just as daunting for him. It takes a few passes before he gets his nerve up. Then with a fast start, he propels himself up to the porch. I am always there with a treat, hopefully to make it more palatable to him to even be outside. He doesn't seem to be so interested in the pasture these days, he's content to just keep himself close to the house. I see the single set of prints in the snow, heading out to what used to be Jake's favorite place, and it makes me sad. Bailey is running alone. Daphne, who is also in her senior years, is only a fan of the pasture when she can run out there, turn on her back and rub and wiggle in the grass. She's a summer dog. So, the holidays are barreling down on us, and I'm as unprepared as ever. I believe, I believe! Santa, where are you when I REALLY need you!
at 8:35 AM