As we approach the sixth anniversary of Charlie’s ascension to the throne at the Casa del Whackos, the sense of time passing us by feels a bit more acrid. Time is like toilet paper, as it seems to go faster towards the end of the roll.
And what a roll it has been, and we’re not done yet.
Tonight, mom turned in early and I was left alone to fend for myself against the canine horde. I was laying on my back in front of the fireplace considering such imponderables as “why do dogs like to be patted?” I get the allure of petting, butt scratching, ear rubbing, chest massaging, as I like those things myself, but “patting”? I don’t get it.
Or what do people who don’t have dogs do with their hands when at home? Or even talk about, for that matter?
It was during this time of reflection that I suddenly became acutely aware of a part of my anatomy that I had previously given scant consideration. You know that loose skin under your triceps uncharitably referred to by some as “bat wings”? I had never imagined that I possessed such appendages, until Charlie decided to bring it to my attention. I had my hands behind my head, and The Rambunctious One decided that she needed some lovin’s and sooner was a much better time than later. The tiniest bit of my batflesh was pinched between the floor and her horny hooves, and to say it smarted is the understatement of the year. If the Spaniards had known of this particular type of torture, the Inquisition would have been over in less than fifteen minutes.
Then it occurred to me: you have to be alive to feel pain. And there will come a day that I would endure a thousand such indignities for the chance at just one more. But while it seems a bit more poignant when comparing our life spans to that of our dogs, it is no less important when considering the time spent with those around us. Life is too short and the moments too dear to waste them on childish squabbles; the clock is always ticking.
So, this weekend, regardless of the weather, Charlie and I are going camping. There’s not much she likes better than spending time alone with her dad without competition from the other dogs, so that’s what she’s going to get. I often think that’s why she loves to ride the motorcycle so much, as there is no question of canine distancing at unlawful speeds.
I want to abide forever
In every moment that we spend
When it’s gone
it won’t be back again.
We be of one blood, ye and I
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