Tuesday, March 12, 2013
It's raining, it's pouring, and our old dog is snoring. I can't get myself to do any of the work I'm supposed to be doing - writing or rehearsing the new show, working on the music, editing the video (that we shot this weekend and then promptly left the cards upstate, making it impossible to edit - off the hook on that one). Let alone prepare the looming taxes, unpack, even schedule rehearsal space or sign back up at the gym. It's all a bit much. Our dog, Mimi, is finally showing her age.
Mimi is an Italian Greyhound (Mimi is short for Milan), and at 14 years old she is about 72 in human years. Until this past weekend we've always said she's still a puppy, because Grandma Mimi always greeted us with a tap dance and happily jumped 3x her body height to give our asses high-10's, if she ever smelled meat. She is an elegant, yet goofy friend, with a big heart, highly articulated ears, long legs and a tiny waistline. She is small of stature but enormous in bed. Her breed was the first ever domesticated dog, designed to warm the beds of royalty. When I got back from my recent 101 show, 5 month tour of duty, she and I slept together for 35 hours straight.
So, now that she's given to crying, collapsing, and not eating the homemade meals my wonderful Italian husband prepares for her, I am having a hard time focusing on the stupid comedy routines that I call work. We go to the vet in an hour. Wish us all strength.