Meredith Mansfield, Author

I’m behind by a day. Yesterday, just sort of got away from me. That happens sometimes.

And . . . I don’t have much to post about right now, anyway. The truth is I’m not feeling very creative at the moment. It’s not writer’s block–been there, got the T-shirt. It’s more just that other things–one specific other thing, is taking up all the energy that would normally go into writing.

My good old boy dog is dying. He’s been showing his age–fourteen and a half–for a while now, but he’s really gone downhill rapidly since last Sunday, though he is still eating, if not much else. I’m wrestling with the decision nearly all pet owners have to face sooner or later and I just don’t have the emotional energy left over to put into writing.

Micah was originally Michael, when he came to me eleven years ago. But that’s my brother’s name so, to keep peace in the family–and avoid confusion–I dropped the L-sound and called him Micah. He never noticed the difference. Officially, to the AKC, he’s Ch. Snowrose Flying Without Wings. A Cardigan Welsh corgi. He’s been my Velcro dog, following me from room to room, my agility team mate, my good boy. And, currently, he’s my only pet. It just happened that way as the cats left us, one by one, and then we lost Aliza (Tricreek’s Simply Irresistable) two years ago.

A year ago, I tried to bring another dog in. Micah was quite all right with it, once he had a chance to get used to the idea. But the new dog turned out to be an escape artist, and I live on a busy street, so I had to take her back because I knew I couldn’t keep her safe. The last six months or so, Micah has really needed to be an only dog and so he has been. The house is going to very quiet when he’s gone.

Micah when I first met him:

In his prime:

With Aliza:

Playing dog agility:

Pretending to be a Christmas present:

That’s a good boy, Micah. That’ll do.