In Her Element

The Sandal Man/Dark Horse (I forgot that I called him that once) recommended during Finals Week last term that I get onboard with Flickr. We've been digging around for images of Majo to have laser etched onto her urn. We did the same thing for Buck, but just a face shot. I told Dad that we ought to use a different picture for Majo, and I think this is the one that will win out.

You can't really tell by the picture just how small Majo is. She was a couple of years old when Buck died. She was noticeably smaller than he was. My mother had brain surgery less than a year after we got Majo, and when she was recovering she'd call Majo "the little dog" to differentiate between her and Buck, and even after Buck was gone, it stuck.

What Majo lacked in size, she made up for in energy; Buck tended to be lethargic, particularly late in life. Majo could behave and sit still on certain occasions, but when she knew it wasn't really one of those occasions, she'd run circles around me.

Now tell me. With a dog that adorable, wouldn't you get pretty damn choked up if she just up and had a heart attack on you? Even when she was "older" than me, she was still my baby, and I'm going to miss her an awful lot.