I am interrupting December Views to pay a small tribute to my mom’s yorkshire terrier, Kirby.  If the dog year:human year ratio is 7:1, then this dog is 105 years old. Kirby’s long life drew to a close this morning. It has been a rather long goodbye, and for that I am thankful. Kirby started showing signs of renal failure this summer. Medicines slowed its impacts, but could not cure it. Kirby also had canine Alzheimer’s (yes, there is such a thing) and so it was with heavy hearts that we watched him grow slower, older, and more confused in his familiar surroundings… sometimes getting lost in his own yard, and in these last couple of weeks, in his own house.

I admit that my feelings for most dogs range from indifference to like. I find dogs amusing and cute, but I am not one of those people who fall in love with every furry face and tail-wagger I meet. And yes, this includes even my own dog. I care about Tula, and my affection for her grows daily, but generally my feelings for her are in direct proportion to her good or bad behavior. It will take awhile for her to really get deep into my heart. To me dogs are dogs, and I can’t imagine that I will ever get to a point at which I put dogs par with people. But that is okay. I am committed to her, and I will never question that pets become part of the families to which they belong, and tonight I feel a little Kirby-sized hole in my heart. He was not my dog, but he has been a part of my life, if only peripherally, for 15 years.

Mostly, though, I feel so sad for Mom. He was a gift to her, and a constant companion to her and her best friend, Mary, at home and in the RV. Except for the fact that he was never crazy about kids (but he never, ever hurt anybody… he just avoided them by hiding under the couch or on Mom’s lap), he was as about as good a boy as they come. I look at my own pup and hope that we can give her half as good a life as Mom and Mary gave Kirby.

So, Kirby, I hope that wherever you are tonight, there are plenty of squirrels, and falling leaves, and birds flying overhead for you to chase. I hope that whatever your experience is, you feel whole and well and young again. I will miss you.

p.s. hopefully this weekend I’ll get more good stuff for the next week of December views.

…and so, this is a pic I took for my Day 3 post, but did not originally post. I still like it though.

(She is playing with my iPhone.)

blooms/ice: shot within 10 feet of each other

overcast afternoon/spectacular sunset: shot within 1 hour

I just read about December Views, and I love the idea. It’s pretty obvious that I haven’t had much to say around here, and… well… I need to do something like this for myself. I was tempted to look at the photos of some of the participants before I made up my mind whether or not to participate, but I decided not to because that would only intimidate me, and so I’m just gonna do it. I’ll go back and look at their pics just as soon as I sign myself up for the project.

So, for the remainder of December, very few words, but every day a photo… a photo that means something special to me. A photo that, hopefully, will capture something that resonates with you, my friend.

If you’re curious about the photos check this out.

There is no doubt about the beauty and romance of seeing two people meet at a designated place and time, to make a promise to love, honor, and cherish each other until death parts them. Weddings are romantic. They are beautiful. They are a precious time. Our wedding was something I will always remember, and I can say without a doubt that our guests will remember it, too. For lots of reasons. Fortunately. I guess. But November 9, 1996, is when John and I, privately, made the conscious choice: yes, let’s DO this. Together.

That was thirteen years ago. If you need a visual reference for how long ago that was, let me show you.

Notice how dark John’s moustache was. And notice how young my eyes and skin look. We had no idea then what twists and turns life was going to hand us. But for me, there was this: absolute, complete certainty that this man–whom I was madly in love with, who was my very best friend in the world, whom I trusted with everything–he was the only person I wanted to stand beside forever.

Sure we’ve had some unexpected twists and turns, but when I look at him sitting across the room from me with one of our daughters curled into his side, I realize that I have about a million more reasons to be madly in love with him; that after a day or a night spent apart, I yearn for him just as much as when our lives required miles of distance between us; that the depth of his love is one thing, but it is often his devotion to our friendship that keeps the spark alive; that I have trusted him with everything, and he has never let me down.

What can I say to that? Other than thank you, my dear, sweet, precious man. But specifically, on this day, thank you for asking.