it's a dog eat dog world out there....

[that's an old-ass picture, excuse it if you could be so kind....and the shitty quality is due to the camera phone I used to snap it with]

There's something I can't shake out of my mind. It happened late last night, as I was returning back to my parents' house at about 1:00am, where I spent the entire weekend to watch my dog, Zoey, being that my 'rents were out-of-town for the weekend.

Some backstory: in her younger days, Zoey would be there waiting by the front door, tail wagging and tongue flapping, impatiently jonesing for my arrival back home. Sometimes, she'd ba lying against the door, and in my drunken and/or tired state, I'd fling the door open, banging it into her back and waking her up unceremoniously. Yet, she'd be far from angry; on the contrary, she'd be ecstatic, knowing that her big homie is finally back in the pad safely. It was pretty damn reassuring....Zoey has been my righthand for 12 years now. Yes, it's like that.

So fast forward back to last night....things didn't go as just described. And really, they haven't for some months now, but I guess it registered a bit louder last night than on past evenings. I opened the door, but she was nowhere to be found. I searched the house far and wide, and I finally happened upon her sleeping in my parents' bed, upstairs and yards away from our old meeting spot: the front door.

Reality is, she's an old lady now. She needs her sleep, and her hearing is at about 30% now. I basically have to scream bloody murder from like 10 feet in front of her, at the least. Like I said earlier, she's 12 years old now, not young. Oh, btw, she's a German Shepherd. Full breed. And from what I've been told, G-Sheps live to be around 14, 15 years old. Well, maybe that "15" is me engaging in some wishful thinking. If I had my way, she'd live to 30 in human years, and be a canine vampire (a "bloodhound," if you will....womp womp wooommmmp!). But this isn't an Anne Rice novel, it's the real cruel world. And Zoey isn't going to be around forever.

Last night, this became more painfully clear than ever before. A large part of me wishes I still lived back at my parents', just so I could spend more time with her, rather than two or so times a week I see her now that I'm residing in the 'Boken. She's the greatest thing to ever happen to the canine community, and I hope I can show that more in the near future. I see a bright, gleaming box of fresh Snausages in her immediate future. She sure loves that shit.