It's 1:30 a.m. I can't sleep. The dogs are stretched out between Michael and me, Caprice at my feet, Canon between our heads, feet almost in Michael's face, head at my pillow. He is breathing quickly and loudly. Is anything wrong? I pet him, kiss him, rub his tummy. He groans a bit, slows his breathing, but then goes back to his sleep panting. I wonder if the little wound at his nose is infected. Does he have a fever? I lie there, and lie there, and lie there...
Might as well get up for awhile, I reason. Actually my reason leads me to the kitchen to taste the pineapple cheesecake I have made for my poodle play group brunch in the morning. Back to bed. Still can't sleep. I pick up one of the books on my nightstand, Doug Koktavy's The Legacy of Beezer and Boomer, even though I know it will be a tear jerker, as it is about the author's experiences with the illness and death of his dogs. I cry as soon as I open the book and look at the introduction. I see Ana mentioned, and Julie. I smile thinking of them--just for a moment, because the tears are rolling. By now I am sniffling too, probably louder than Canon's breathing.
Up again for a Kleenex and a good blow. Why on earth did I think I could handle this? I'll write about it in my blog.
I feel my way to the office in the dark, so as not to wake Michael. (How could he be asleep with all this action?) Canon follows me. I sit on the floor and pet him for a short while before I move to the computer, he to seemingly quietly sleep on his pillow, although as I look at him, I see his chest quickly moving up and down. As I watch him, I think of how much I love this fuzzy, white creature, and tears fall again.
The urge to write about Beezer and Boomer is not as strong now. Maybe I'll wait to write more after I read more. If I can read more.
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