It occurred to me today that Hank has been for a year now. A year today, to be specific. I thought about it early enough that the day could have been a completely depressing mess, but it wasn’t so bad. It was just a sad fact of the date; I still miss Hank, sometimes enough that it hurts, but it’s not that overwhelming “oh shit, I’m gonna cry” kind of thing. It’s more like a “damn, he was such a good dog” thing, and while I miss him, I’m just happy we had him for as long as we did.

I feel pretty much the same on the anniversary of Dusty’s death; I miss her, but I’m glad she was with us for as long as she was—13 years—and that as sick as she was her last year, she was comfortable and happy right up until that last day.


We didn’t sit around and feel sorry for ourselves. The Spouse Thingy got off work early, really early, so after the maintenance guy came to fix our running toilet with the leaky valve, we went to a movie. The Day After Tomorrow is, in spite of the critics’ belly aching that the movie is stupid because “that just can’t happen”, a pretty good way to spend a couple of hours. So it can’t really happen, at least not in the scientific manner as shown in the movie.

Say it with me, kiddos.

It’s. Just. A. Movie.
Made up stuff.

We had a good time. And he has tomorrow off, so we’ll probably just hang around the house and clean out the garage, spend some time with some neighborhood dogs we’re pet sitting (one is pretty much a horse, though, I’m not sure he can realistically be classified as canine), and play with the Spouse Thingy’s new Smoothie machine.

It’ll make daiquiris.

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