Update: Okay, the original post is still below, but I find I need to apologize to those who know me and know my dog. I am so sorry for scaring everyone. Especially both my oldest daughters, my sister, and my former spouse. Sydni is still with us and doing great for a 13+ year old dog. But she's slowing down, can't climb the stairs by herself, is deaf as a post, and can't make it further than around the block before she's ready to be done with the walk. Not that she isn't as excited as ever to get out the door--she's just done by the time you turn the second corner. Still, she's as beautiful as ever (really, she looks better than she has in five years), and fuzzy and loving and she smiles. Especially when she's sleeping, which is most of the time. (I find I'm back to that stage I was in right after my girls were born, when I checked on them during naps and in the middle of the night to be sure they were still breathing.) And all of that is why I said I'm going to miss her. Both of Laura's old dogs passed this past year, and so I'm just hyper-conscious of Sydni's age and more grateful than ever for every day that begins and ends with nuzzles and husky-hugs from her. That's all. My bad. So sorry. Truly I am. I expect better of myself when it comes to proofing my own work from a reader's perspective, but clearly I skipped that step entirely with this quick little post whipped off during the workday to capture a nostalgic moment. Clearly. When my ex called tonight she'd been crying, as I expect I would to think I was hearing similar news of her dog. By the time she was laughing, after my profuse apologies, she summed up the gaff pretty well. "That's the last thing I would expect from you, the Wizard of Words." More like the Scrivener's Apprentice today. Again, sorry.
For some reason, the smell of the ocean is strong to me today--possibly not a good thing, it being about 100 miles away. But what has been nice is the flashback to all those morning and evening walks with Sydni in Charleston that usually ended on the pier jutting into the tidal marsh of Shem Creek, back in those days when the tide charts were part of my daily crosscheck. I am going to miss my dog.