Lobsters don’t age?
The wife’s dog tore an ACL and underwent surgery, and his recovery slowed Thanksgiving weekend to a numbing stretch of Netflix, naps, and portering the old pooch out to potty. It’s brought to mind how aging yields the unexpected (he’s 13, or, uhh, about 237 in dog years), no matter how well planned, and also how thoroughly the routine can be disrupted – or re-routed – by necessity. The dog’s miserable; consequently, everything we were doing, or meant to do, or wanted to do … changed.
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