In memoriam

For the last time, I told Fudge, “Good night, old man” as I turned off the living room light.

For the last time, Scott got up early to let him outside.

For the last time, he refused to eat.

For the last time, Sam lovingly annoyed him so much that he came tottering in to find an adult for rescue.

For the last time, he turned around and wandered back outside in confusion, unsure what he was doing inside as soon as Sam left him alone.

For the last time, Caroline kissed his nose.

For the last time, we took his picture.… Read the rest

A letter to my dog, who is dying


Sorry for the eyes- the 'fix animal red eye' function of Picmonkey leaves much to be desired

Dear Fudge,

Thank you for eating today’s hot dog. You’ve bought us all twelve more hours until the inevitable. And maybe twelve more after that, if you’ll let me feed you another. This morning, when it took two of us to guide you to the door, and still your legs splayed out four times, I thought we had run out of time. But you revived. Found your footing. Ate the hot dog. The walking, at least, would be simpler if you stayed on the carpet or your bed.Read the rest

A Starbucks Kind of Morning

It was a Starbucks kind of morning. I woke up to the sound of my kids yelling at each other, which meant that

1) They had been up before us long enough to get into a squabble (which even for them takes a few minutes) and

2) There was likely something wrong out in the rest of the house.

Oh baby. Little did I know. I popped out the retainer that keeps my bottom teeth from overlapping, pulled on some pants and lumbered out of the bedroom. For the next full minute, all I could say was “Oh my God”. Over and over again.… Read the rest

A Dog’s Life

Fudge Does Sofas

Fudge is our old man. We think he’s around ten (remember, he was a pound find), and he’s showing his age. His legs want to go in opposite directions when he skids to a stop, his allergic ears spend at least half of every month infected, and he’s also prone to hot spots and skin infections. Not bad when you consider he’s 70 in dog years. Or that he spent around 30 or of those years fighting off obesity.

Most mornings, he gets up around 6. Then he stands at the office door and ticky-tacks his toenails on the hardwood laminate until someone gets annoyed and wakes up to let him out.  … Read the rest