I did not want to get out of bed this morning. At all. I have a houseguest, my dear friend Max, and I knew he’d walk Lou if I didn’t. His door was closed I didn’t know whether he was up or and I didn’t want to disturb him so I mustered the energy that most people have anyway and I took the kid for a walk. And holy shite – this might be the most beautiful day I’ve ever experienced.
This neighborhood, on this day, was designed by Rene Magritte and Edward Hopper. The colors are stunning, the climate nonintrusive, the sky and the clouds perfectly executed. My mood does not match it but my mood is not terrible – just melancholy, a state of being I’ve always experienced and never minded. On our walk I wished, for a moment, that I’d had my camera. But I wouldn’t have been able to capture the day’s beauty, anyway. I’d been feeling kind of blue (Miles) and the powers that be reminded me that all is far from lost.
Oh how I love love love my little bunny boy, Lou. I’m painfully aware that he’s “an older dog” and I’m blissfully aware that he’s larger than life and not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. What’s hard is that he came of age with three other family dogs, all of whom have gone to the great dog run in the sky. It also doesn’t help that two years ago he received a “Welcome to your Golden Years, love, Chelsea Animal Hospital” card in the mail (a day after he received his AARP card). However, he is spry and lovely and excellent and staring at me now as I click away madly on this modern day typewriter while glancing at him with my furrowed brow.