Saying Goodbye to Boudreaux

It has taken me a couple of days to process the fact that he is indeed gone, that sixteen in dog years is more like a century to humans and that his poor little body just deteriorated, obliterating his puppy spirit in the process. I watched and waited, hoping for a sign that it was time, that I hadn’t selfishly prolonged his life just to have him in mine. And as he has for so very long, he let me know what he wanted. And with a heavy heart, I obliged him. His death was peaceful thanks to the loving care of a mobile vet, a friend of my daughter-in-law, who came immediately. We sat on the kitchen floor, and I held him, wrapped in his favorite blanket as I offered him a slice of bologna, his fa

Woo Hoo! It's a Snow Day!

Two days ago, I stood in the checkout line at the grocery store for twenty minutes. It was unusual, since mine prides itself on stellar customer service. They even take your bags to the car for you with a smile and a “Have a good day.” But like so many people, I was compelled to stock up for the approaching weather, a ritual akin to those busy squirrels gathering nuts in the winter. As I waited my turn to put my food on the conveyor belt, I wondered how many times I had done this. When I lived in South Louisiana, buying bread and milk, along with the appropriate adult beverages, seemed as normal as breathing when tropical storms and possible hurricanes threatened all too often in the fall. A

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