Well ladies, sad day. Sad week. I was supposed to have my birthday party last Sunday night, but my family was too sick. Mr. B offered that we hang out with his folks, but that’s not really a birthday fun situation for me so we just hung out at home instead. He got me speakers and a new memory card for my camera. :)
Today, more upsetting news. My mom texted me that she found her beloved dog, Ginger, passed on of seemingly natural causes earlier today. She was 14 (I think), and my mom found her out back, apparently sunbathing, except she wasn’t there anymore.
Ginger used to do this thing when she sunbathed, where she would lay there until she just couldn’t stand it and then she would jump up panting hysterically with this big goofy dog grin on her face and she’d come inside and stretch out on the cool kitchen floor. I’m happy that’s how she went—it’s how she would have wanted to go, I think. I like to think of her jumping up and running off panting to lie on the kitchen floor in the sky, not even noticing she left her body behind.
We used to call her our Big Dog. She was seven pounds of “vicious” Miniature Pincher—she’d tell anyone who begged to differ, too. She got Q good on the ankle once. But as with all super beings, her kryptonite was sprinklers, and whenever we went for a walk we had to cross the street to avoid them.
Apparently my brother’s dog passed on today too; Kilo was still pretty young for a German Sheppard (5ish, I think). But he was sick with something, I’m not sure what, and we knew he was going to have a shorter life. He was a good dog. We used to joke that my mom’s little dogs must have thought he was a horse (but not Ginger—she was bigger than every other dog on the planet).
Ginger and Kilo are survived by a large family of critters and people, including Spooky the cat and Lily the toy fox terrier.
Alula
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