Friday afternoon I was emotionally and physically exhausted and had that churning, roiling pit of acid in my stomach. My efforts at work were largely ineffectual.
Few things in rescue, or perhaps in life generally, are all good or all bad. Having something bad happen on a good day seems like a bummer, but the flip side is that good things can happen on bad days as well.
A good friend stopped by with this beautiful hanging basket to bring some beauty and joy into my life on a pretty dark day.
Earlier in the day I stopped the car to let this family of geese cross the road. There's no way not to smile when you see something like that.
After delivering Nero's body to the SPCA for cremation, I brought home Toby, f/k/a Vincent, future name TBD. He's probably nine years old and currently has some issues affecting both ends of his digestive tract, but he's a nice old guy and he needed me.
I found this poem on Facebook, corny but touching, and a needed reminder of why we do this.
I don't know if it's the Prozac kicking in or what, but it was the most normal behavior I've seen out of Rex. He ran too close to the mower so I rode with one foot on the brake and one hand ready to shut down the blades if necessary, but at least he ran forward instead of chasing his tail. He even engaged in play with the other dogs to some extent. It gave me hope.
Daisy, Lana, and Radley probably ran five miles in the time we were out there. They tore across the field, back and forth, up and down, disappearing for a while, and reappearing in a flash.
Gigi and Rex mostly stayed with me, but they played with each other a bit and Gigi played with Daisy as well.