No, not to blogging; though you'd be excused for thinking that, based on my posting rate lately. Instead, I'm talking about saying goodbye to a long-time friend: our dog Duke. We had known the decision to put him down was coming. It was no surprise. At somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 years, he had already lived a longer life than was probably normal for a dog of his size and assorted minor health issues. Add to that the fact that his health slowly faded over the last year, and then took a nose dive over the summer. By the time August rolled around he was not doing well. We managed to make him a little peppier, and more comfortable, but there is only so much you can do for a 15-year-old dog with what I'll paraphrase the vet as describing as "either 1 big problem, or 10 little ones." I had honestly hoped I would just walk down one morning and he would be lifeless. As bad as that would suck, at least I wouldn't have to make the call. But no. Man in the ...
We tried for one, and we ended up with a bushel of fun.