Back from the Road.
Thanks to Whitey, Sharen, and Ratbone for the work in the Bellevue booth...btw, nice new look on the Chum, E.
Huge props to Señor Kerr for rowin' us around the coast and generally having way too much fun for 3 reasonably well-adjusted dudes. Thanks for opening your home to us, and for makin' the bitchin'est deer tacos north of Ciudad Juárez.
Big Ups to Hick for doin' all the legwork for the Red Gold showing in PDX...you made the trip worth it, man. Next time we'll be sure to get less popcorn, more chairs, and twice the beer.
Thanks to Deerhawk for the work in the PDX booth - you are the man, and we'll be in touch about that AK roadtrip.
Bacon, we owe you, brotha. That one grab was worth a whole day in the moon boots. Now that you have shown us a little of yours, we'll be more than happy to show you a little ours.
Back to the present.
For a month or so, the Pooper has been slowing down, sleeping a lot more, and generally showing a lot more signs that his 16 years are rapidly catching up to him. About christmastime, he was still boogieing up and down the stairs like it wasn't nothin' but a thang, and he still went into puppy mode when his stuffed animals came out of the basket.
His back legs don't work anymore these days, and he gets a little restless when he lays on one side for too long. Eating is no longer his favorite thing to do, and it's all we can do to get him to drink a little water every now and then.
This feels like a slow-motion accident, an inevitable open road crash that you can see coming a long ways off, but are incapable of avoiding. If you have ever lost a pet to old age, you can probably understand this emotion. Having buried a few family dogs in our day, we know what is coming, but we are still powerless to change the outcome of the wreck. We know it's coming and we know it's going to hurt, but we also know that we survive, scarred and shaking, but alive.
That doesn't make it any easier.