Saying goodbye

This is one of those days where I can't be funny or clever or entertaining.

Right here is where you make a crack about how I've never been any of those things, and we both laugh because it's always possible to laugh.

But it's tougher to do it today because we're having to make the hard decision to say goodbye to our older dog, Ozzy.

You've met Ozzy a couple times before on this blog. He chose the winner in my last blog contest, and I also showed you how our younger dog, Bindi, learned to compensate for Ozzy's deafness by herding him back to us on hikes.

Oz is 15 years old. He's deaf, mostly blind, arthritic, and has a torn ACL, a vestibular disorder, and escalating doggie dementia. Despite all this, his spirits have stayed high, and our vet has continually assured us his quality of life is still good.

But we reached the point this weekend where we aren't sure that's still true.

The significant part of that sentence is "we aren't sure." Friends have always told us, "you'll know when it's time." The thing is, we don't know. Not for sure. Ozzy still has moments where he's the happiest, spunkiest dog at the park, and we think he might just outlive us all.

But those moments are starting to seem more fleeting. I guess that's as close as we can come to knowing?

We've been braced for this for awhile, and we're frankly surprised he's lasted this long. Still, it's not easy. For childless-by-choice couples like us, your pets become your family. Even when you think you're prepared for the inevitable, you never really are.

Stop by tomorrow and I'll be back to my old self. For now, you can see me being my old self young and vivacious self at author Brenda Sedore's blog, where she interviewed me about books and publication and the fact that I often dress like a homeless hooker when I'm writing. Go here to check that out.

But for now, it's time to say goodbye. We'll miss you, buddy.