Slowing down

Dash finally is outwardly manifesting his illness in more tangible ways. We still visit the dog park (we like both Joaquin Miller and the one in Alameda) and he's pleased as punch to be there but doesn't seem to have any umph. No romps, no mad dashes, no bowing and playing. Just smiles and grins, lots of panting and occasional barking sprees to see if he can generate some interest from either dogs at play or me on a chair. Watching. Waiting. Wondering.

For the first time I felt mad. I looked at him and he's glorious and beautiful and while he's all skin and bones, his majesty still is preeminent in my eyes. So why is he sick now when he should be in the prime of his life? This anger is followed by sadness and then by my will to be present with him each day that I have him. To relish each day whatever sort of day it is for the little man.

After a short walk in the hills with Don on a rainy day, Dash snuggles up. Nice.

At "play" in the dog park. "It's nice here" he says "I think I'll relax and eat some tasty dirt"

This is a bit out of context but it's so great. Taken by Stephanie Felch. The boy is focused on everything coming his way. Stephanie titled it "Speedin'" Ain't that the truth...