Celebrating life, instead of mourning passing

A day later, it’s beautiful outside.  One of the nicest days in ages, in spite of the changing of the seasons, and the sporadic rainfall had in Atlanta over the past weeks. The heavens must have been appeased by a most worthy addition received last night.

Jen and I both knew this day was eventually going to come, but in spite of it, nothing ever really could prepare you for when that time comes.  Even in dog years, Nikki was pushing the boundaries of mortality, exceeding 19 human years; regardless, knowing the end is closer doesn’t make it any simpler for when the end does arrive.

Although I’m a train wreck of sad lately, it really was for the best.  His health was deteriorated by age, and more antibiotics would only have gotten Nik back to the point of having an appetite and clumsy movement.  And in all honesty, it was selfish reasons why this wasn’t done sooner, since obviously neither Jen nor myself wanted to lose him at all, and obligingly like the good dog he always was, Nik always hung around, for us.

When I moved to Georgia, I inherited a Nik.  When we moved into our first home, the Nik coming along was a no-brainer. The Nik slept in my bedroom for the better part of the last seven years.  I’m sure I could spout hundreds of Nikki stories, but it’s really not necessary.  Save the best ones between Jen and myself.

But god damn it, I’m going to miss the dog taco, and there’s no changing that ever.

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