My Boy

Moose in his normal mode - note the gray cheeks

It's his birthday tomorrow - well, technically, we're not sure exactly when, but since he was a Thanksgiving present, and he was about a year old when he emerged shivering from Mom's car and promptly ran and hid on me, we call Thanksgiving his birthday. 

He's 13 now, and starting to show his age.  The tail-patterned baldness is spreading, there are a few more fatty lumps on the belly, the gray is starting to be more of a cover than a highlight on his face... but he's always going to be my boy.  My constant companion, my emotional backstop... my heart dog.  I'm starting to worry that I might outlast him, and it frightens me, but that's the way it is with our canine companions. 

Dixie just showed up on my "this day two years ago" app - it was two years ago that we had to say goodbye to that grouchy little loved one.  Between her and Shadow and Daisy, we're building up quite a welcome contingent across the rainbow bridge, and while I wish we didn't have to say goodbye, I wouldn't have missed knowing them for the world.  I just wish it wasn't such a brief time together. 

But for right now... Moose is sleeping on my lap, occasionally waking up just long enough to make sure that I'm doing ok (and not sneaking any snackage past him), his warm body in a comma around me, making sure to maintain maximum body contact.  He's not really fond of my typing - means that no hands are free to pet him - but he puts up with it, for now.  When he's tired of waiting, he'll stretch out full body in front of the keyboard, belly up, demanding tribute in the form of belly rubs.  It's a rough life... but he makes due.  Happy birthday, my love...  and may you have many, many more.