Sunday was also the G-man's birthday!!
He is now 4 years old; in dog years, he is 32.
My furry boy is only 1 year younger than me. That's a leetle crazzzeee. I wonder how he feels about the dirty thirties?
I also wonder how excited he was for his birthday, cause surely he realized that it was indeed the day of his birth, right? He likely woke up excited. He started fist pumping when Brad asked him if he wanted to go to the park for a ____ so I'm confident he was in the land of realization.
|He even got a bath for his birthday; lucky guy|
After the G-man pranced his way around the park, he hauled back his loot of birthday cards and cake from all of the people of Toronto. He is a very in-high-demand canine. His behind wiggles to the beat of any drum and also catches the eye of every innocent bystander, rendering them useless and locked in his charm.
I pretend to be the superstar, when in reality it's the furry boy.
Later Brad and I got ready for our coffee date, you know, after I came out of my zombie-like state and started participating in the day. Perhaps not in a real meaningful way, but I was exhausted from kicking the crap out of Heather and Brad the night before. Ahhhh, Phase 10...I am an unbeatable player.
Buddy (looked like a writer) was sitting at one of the two tables. He looked intense and really focused on his stuff, so naturally I felt inclined to talk to him.
I warned him, and at the same time, apologized in advance for how loud we would be. This made him smile and we were instant buds. He asked me if it was oxygen that I was wearing and why. I confirmed that it was oxygen and explained that I wore it because it made me feel attractive and intelligent at the same time. Also that it was known to up a person's coolness rating by several stars.
He ran out dialing his physician's number.
Thanks guys, once again we had a blast. Once again Sandra and I got to hear lots of PEI stories.
On the way home Brad was a bit of a wild driver (thinking it was the wheelchair 500 I guess) and this is what happened to the cake we got from Sandra:
Once home we decided to make nachos and watch Parking Wars.
See how glamorous this life is?
So we (meaning Brad) made the nachos, with me urging Brad to add more to the plate, as he eats so fast that I barely get any. Of course he says "I don't want very many, it'll be fine".
I've never scarfed down junk so fast in all of my existence. Once I realized the chips were quickly disappearing, I kicked it up several thousand notches to try and match him chip for chip, but alas my guts are not made of steal, and I eventually broke down and pointed out exactly what I had predicted earlier.
Such a typical guy/girl moment. Guy doesn't understand what happened; girl knew all along.
We ended up spending the rest of the night relaxing...I watched Long Island Medium while sucking back my aerosols, while Brad pumped iron in the gym. So, yeah, quite relaxing for the both of us. Then, as usual, I beat Brad and Heather in cards.
Seriously, winning all the time is getting old.
I didn't even cry. I guess I'm a big girl now???
The fact is, I know I have to get through this stuff without him. I know that his place is home with the boys and that I'll join them really soon.
I'm lucky enough to have a fantastico support team and I'm never alone.
If it came right down to it, I'd karate chop myself in the face if I got too sad. Waiting on the transplant list is too freaking exciting to get sad.
P.S. thank you Sharon for the incredibly sweet card in the mail. Check it out:
|Van Gogh or Picasso??|