Obviously, we are all very sad. There is nothing nice about knowing that your dog is at death's door. But the weird part, the great part, is that she's still seemingly healthy and normal, totally herself. So we're taking every opportunity to show her a good time and have some fun. Kind of like 20 Good Years, only it's 20 Good Days.
So this morning we all packed into the Outback and headed to the beach. That dog loves to run and fetch, and has little to no patience for toddlers trying to figure out how to use the chuckit.
We didn't care that it was cold and drizzly. Nanna certainly didn't. Ozzy cares only about whether or not that thing in front of him is edible.
Samson, too, had a great time. Vast expanses of sand upon which to run, vast expanses of sand with which he can fill his mouth. He didn't even really mind that we made him wear a hat. The nerve!
I only hope that she's having a good time. Beyond the absurd amount of treats, the extra special attention and all of the fun outings, I hope she knows that she is very deeply loved.