Counting Down Our Endless Numbered Days
<p>We adopted Hazel from a fantastic Chicago shelter called <a href="https://www.pawschicago.org/" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" target="_blank">PAWS</a> when he was just four months old. My wife and I raised him from a baby. He was our baby. Our starter child. He had the entirety of our attention for several years before his adoptive sister, Lulu, arrived from Bogota (long story) to upend his life. And, man, did that alone time imprint upon him. This old man is so spoiled. We lament that, but not really. It was our great joy to spoil him these past fourteen years. Even when it didn’t feel particularly joyful in the moment.</p>
<p>When he was still just a puppy, I’d lie beside him like this and stare into his sharp, expressive eyes — I’ve never known a dog with more overt facial intelligence— and work myself into unnecessary fits of sadness at the thought that one day I’d lose him. It was so stupid. Especially since that day was so far away back then. I mean, it’s here now. But back then it was little more than a dark fantasy.</p>
<p><a href="https://medium.com/the-ten-thousand-things/counting-down-our-endless-numbered-days-a8e13c555a93"><strong>Read More</strong></a></p>