My apologies to anyone disappointed that I didn't get my usual Thursday late night "intimations of immorality" image up. I've been going back and forth in my mind on whether or not to run an erotic art show this week. I'm feeling kind of bummed. Our eldest dog, Bobo, the first dog I've ever owned, is undergoing cancer surgery today. In fact, the vet is probably working on him right now. It isn't the cancer I'm worried about -- fortunately, is very slow-growing and this surgery is a "debulking" of the tumor to relieve the pressure (and thus give him more years). But he's going under general anesthesia. Bobo's getting to be a pretty old fellow and older dogs don't always do too well with that. He has been through an astonishing number and intensity of medical interventions, starting at age 4, when he nearly died from a ruptured disk. He has always been a real champion about his seemingly endless series of afflictions, bouncing back every time and wagging his tail through most everything. At the ripe age of 11 1/2, though, I can't help feeling all kinds of anxious about whether he has the will to keep fighting.

He was acting pretty pitifully a couple of weeks ago (his seasonal allergies have been through the roof this year -- as you'll see below by the damage he's done to himself with incessant chewing and licking). But the vet put him on pain medications and antibiotics, and he's been acting sprightly and happy again the last few days. So we're hopeful that he still has lots and lots of fight left to get through many more years of life.

my poor old baby

All this to say that I didn't feel as jovial as usual last night, and didn't feel like forcing myself to kid around on the blog.

But after much thought this morning I've decided to go ahead with the art show anyway. Thinking about Bobo and where he'd be today, at first, made me feel like brushing off the show. But thinking about Bobo also always makes me remember how NOTHING, not even dire illnesses that must cause him the most hellish of discomfort, have EVER kept him down. I'm going to do a show. And with luck, by the end of the day, will be able to report that our little old baby is home.

April 18, 2008 in Autobiographical Urges, Pets and Animal Love, Sex and Arts | Permalink

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