Her last walk*

Her name was Scully. Yes, she was named after Dana Scully from The X-Files. I am a terminal geek. She had inoperable cancer and had to be euthanized summer before last. Less than two months later my Mom died, also of inoperable cancer. That summer sucked.

So did last summer, when my 11-year-old GSP** got sick with some undetermined bug that all but shut down his kidneys. There is nothing like giving an uncooperative dog 2 ounces of water every 15 minutes to appreciate his emptying a 20 ounce water bowl at one long drinking session. Oh, did I mention the IV saline we had to rig up for his dangerously dehydrated spotted butt?

That was July, halfway between the anniversaries of Scully and my Mom's deaths. I disappeared for about four months and only started coming out of my depression when I weaned myself off of anti-depressants, ironically enough. And started exercising again. And writing my morning brain-drain pages while basking in front of a blue light for 20 minutes in the morning. It wasn't just one thing, it was a combination of activities which propelled me toward healthier thoughts.

I will always fight SADS (expletive Seasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome). It affects me in summer (expletive heat) and winter (expletive lack of usable wavelength sunlight). But I must remind myself that it's better when I write, when I play with images, and when I move my lazy @ss.

Let's hope I continue to post here on a semi-weekly basis. Yes, I have another RLB*** challenge, and blogging is one of those things I should do...

* Scully was 14.3 years old.
** German Shorthair Pointer, AKA spotted dog.
*** Robert Lee Brewer, poet, editor (Writer's Market, etc)