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i’m gonna miss you when you die.

March 16, 2009


This morning as I began my not so normal morning routine of remaining in sweatpants and not showering, my sweet and adoring husband requested that I iron his (recently washed but NOT hung up) pants so that he may embark on a lovely day of earning a paycheck.  I (not so eagerly) agreed and just moments before he was to walk out the door, leisurely broke out the mini ironing board (ahh apartment living) and iron.  What my husband doesn’t know is that ironing is Sydney’s near favorite part of the day.  On any given morning this is the moment just following her first pee and grab at the kibble.  She’s a little more than grateful and finds that because I’m on the floor, despite the fact that I’m utilizing a steaming hot tool, she should smother me with cuddles and red rubber balls.  Although generally I humor her with a short game of kitchen ball to try and subside this obsession she has with me ironing, this morning I neglected her and focused more the fact that my husband was about to travel to work pantless.  

Once Chris realized how cuddely the baby dog was being while I labored he thought it was simply the most adorable thing he had ever seen.  In reaction to this he sat next to us and stood in as my “cuddle” proxy.  As I was just about to iron the last pleat into his GAP pants, he muttered these words to our little furry friend.

“I’m really gonna miss you when you die”.

My initial reaction was to agree, but instead quickly responded by scolding him on making such a morbid and absurd statement.  He instantly reminded me that if we were lucky, we would indeed outlive her and I shouldn’t at all be shocked to learn that.  At which point I told him to stop talking about it.  I saw Marley and Me.  I know how this thing ends.  And unfortunately for us, Jennifer Aniston won’t be waiting to hold our hand when we get home. 

It’s my belief that she understood every word we said this morning and is now in the middle of a mid life crisis.  All morning she’s had this look on her face as if she were contemplating the meaning of her menial and sometimes meaningless life.  We’ve been listening to a lot of Ray LaMontagne while I attempt to find ways to express to her how much she means to this family and also her red rubber ball.  




One Comment leave one →
  1. swoodsy permalink
    March 17, 2009 1:17 pm

    that last picture needs to be turned black and white, enlarged to a 24×36, and have a huge black frame around it…I smell a Christmas gift coming!

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