Our girl Scout was a shelter puppy. We don’t know what day she was born, exactly, so ever since we brought her Home we’ve celebrated her birthday on Thanksgiving Day. And today, unofficially, The Sweetest Dog Ever turns 13 years old.
Happy birthday, Scout.
The past several months, every now and then I’ll sit down on the floor with her, cradle her grayed face in my hands, look into her brown eyes and say, softly,
“We made it, old girl. We made it to The Mountain, you and me.”
I’ve been known to say the same to Deb, of course, and Dipstick and Smudge get their share of affection from me. With Scout, though, it’s different.
She and I have been constant companions since the beginning. Now we rage together against aging, both of us hobbled by bad knees and frustrated by dimming eyes. We made it this far because our spirits willed it.
We made it to The Mountain.
This is where we belong. This is where we live our best Life. This is where we’ll draw our last breaths.
More than anything else today, I’m grateful for that.
This afternoon, we’ll load up and head over to the Airbnb where Deb’s “baby cousin” and his sons, visiting from West Virginia, are staying for a few days. That’s where we’ll enjoy Thanksgiving dinner and such. Family time.
You enjoy your day, too, wherever and however you choose to spend it. We’ll catch up tomorrow.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB