There's always something there to stop me dead, and stopping is what I do best. I do not run. I perform a punctuated lope, often amply illustrated.
Any time I stop to photograph something, The Dean's Fork Bomber has to come see what it is.
He will pinch you, Chet Baker.
Oh! Look at you! All right, I'll back off. You smell of creekmud, fish and mad.
We will leave you be if you're going to be that prickly about it.
Dr. Lutz worked him in that afternoon and agreed that he'd had some sort of episode, related to the heart murmur she picked up when I brought him in for his ear infection in February. The day we figured out his thyroid wasn't working right, either. That was not such a good day. Neither was this one, beautiful cool morning and Dean's Fork notwithstanding. Now it's his heart. She put him on blood pressure medication so his heart won't have to work so hard. So he's taking a thyroid pill and a blood pressure pill morning and evening. It still feels funny to shake little pills out of a bottle for Chet Baker. I started taking eye vitamins and fish oil in solidarity, so we'd take our pills together.
Needless to say, this new revelation about Chet's health sent me into a weeklong tailspin. I'm having a hard time accepting the fact that my sweet Bacon is mortal. Since you're wondering, he'll be 12 in December. I suppose it's time for him to have some signs of aging. But any time they show us they're aging, we're never ready for it. That always comes much too soon with our beloved dogs. I don't know what I was thinking--that he'd keep that smart trot going forever?
The light and landscapes there soothe me. I so want my buddy by my side. But I have to accept that there will be days going forward that he can't come along. He'll tell me if he's up for it, and he'll tell me if he's not.
I am delighted to report that, after taking it easy for a week and sitting my last Dean's Fork six miler out, Chet was trotting smartly out in front of us for most of the five mile hike we did there today, June 12. If punctuated loping is too much, we'll walk. If walking is too much, he'll stay home, sit it out. We'll take it day by day, and treasure every single day we have together. Because that's how we roll.
His strong showing today is the only reason I'm back here, writing you a Sunday post, however belated. Kind of lost my heart for blogging when I had to leave The Bacon home. Not yet, not yet. He's got some more hikes in him yet.