So no, I have not hugged a dog (the “fog” was a typo from my original Facebook post to the clinic page) today, but that is not by choice. I’ve just spent the night here on the floor of terminal B at the Denver airport (okay, that was by choice because I refuse to pay $154 for a crappy airport motel. Every once in a while, the famed Randall cheap streak rears up in me, generally resulting in sore hip bones, lukewarm tea, and me ultimately thinking I’m too old for this crap but yet I do it again), and today is that day. So if I seem moody and crabby, it’s because I am. Something tells me that I should have had something other than carbohydrates for breakfast. It’s hard to pass up powdered donut holes when I’m feeling a bit shattered and sorry for myself. But white is a food group, right?

White is a food group, right?

White is a food group, right?

See, I would very much liked to give Eleanor and Beatrice hugs, extra dog biscuits, and more love last night, and I wouldn’t have complained (much) when they expressed their joy at having me home by sleeping on me instead of beside me. Joel has been guarding the home front since Friday, and my friend Michelle has been doing the dog hikes in my absence. She reports sad eyes from Eleanor and clingyness from Bea, both of which are good indicators that it is time for me to be home. An even bigger indicator is that Joel has offered to pick me up at the airport, regardless of what time I make it home.


I think I found this sign on Instagram of some such place (find me and the dogs there as rubypearlmt). For me, it is a reminder that even infinite love is finite. We only have so much time with those that love us most, be they human or canine or any other -ine, and we need to enjoy that time we have with them. It’s the small stuff, the sticks in the creek, holding hands while we walk, a hug at the beginning and end of the day, that matter. Joy, be it shared, given, or received, needs to be our first priority.

And on this note, I hope I get to go home today. Time may fly for all dogs, but I’m hoping that I get to as well. Maybe I’ll even take a powdered donut home for Joel, Eleanor, and Beatrice.