I'm still here doing whatever it is I do. Change diapers, entertain Violet, work, drink beer and ingest some form of cheese, preferably melted. That is the gist of my existence. And I'm not complaining. I'd just like more cheese and less work is all I'm saying.
Hopefully I will receive some exciting news at the end of this week, but there I go, tempting the fates and asking for trouble just by bringing it up. I'll keep you posted. Promise.
I took the above photo of Spliffy and Violet two weekends ago and I'm really digging how he's slightly blurred but looking right at me. I have more photos than I know what to do with at the moment. I'm kind of lurking around the internet but mostly toying with photos. Lots of photos. What is a better medium to remember by, I wonder. Words or photos? I can't decide.
These were taken on Spliffer's last walk in the mountains above our house. We all walked around up there letting Spliff take in the smells and his hometown. I had to carry him home. It was the first and only time I ever did that.
And the photos below were taken one lazy Sunday two weeks ago. It was the first warm day in what felt like years. Not taking advantage would've seemed criminal. Serge was doing yard work while I followed Violet around snapping photos.
He looks tired, doesn't he? The hunched posture, delicate stance and half-closed eyes. Little guy. I wonder if he was in much pain. The vet said he had a tumor in his stomach the size of a grown man's fist. We knew about the one on his back, but not the stomach. After the vet pointed it out I don't know how we missed it. But we did.
And then there was before... Except, most of the photos of the first fifteen years of his life aren't digital, they're in packets of developed photos lying around in boxes in the basement. I managed to scrounge a few off my Flickr account, so, indulge me, wouldja?