point5b

I'm still recovering from a bad chest cold I got last week. I feel mostly OK now, aside from the interminable coughing; at least my chest and throat are no longer sore from coughing.

In sad (but not unexpected) news, my mother had to put her very elderly dog Muffin to sleep. We'd had Muffin, a schnauzer-terrier mix, in the family since before I went to college. In one of my happiest memories of the time, I woke up from a nap on the couch to find a little puppy deposited on my chest.

16 years later, she was still astonishingly active, but she'd gotten cancer that hadn't responded to treatment. Mom and her boyfriend had gotten her one surgery, but it was horribly rough on her. So, when it came back, they let her be comfortable until she wasn't, anymore. So, it was something we were all waiting for

I'd always sort of imagined that Muffin would die suddenly during the paroxysms of yipping joy she gave when someone she knew came to the door. She'd actually calmed down in the last few years, though, I could still tell she was happy to see me when I saw her last, the weekend before last. I'm glad I got to see her, then.

Here's what she looked from a handy snap-shot from a few Septembers back:



And taken at the same time, here her was more flash-adverse companion, a largish Yorkie named Gizmo. I'm afraid that I didn't mention his passing some months time back. His personality sadly changed when he got very old and his senses failed, but for most of his life, he was an equally sweet, friendly, and playful dog:



This would be a less warm post, but even when I first got the news about Muffin, I knew she'd lived a long and happy life. Both of them were good and well-loved dogs.