I cried last night.  Not about the price of food, or because I injured myself, or even because I looked at how much money we owe for my student loans.  I cried because Doc fell down the stairs.  He was helping me bring his toys upstairs, just like he does every night, and he was almost to the top of the stairs but his hips gave out on him and he fell all the way back down again.  Once he got to the bottom, it took him a second to clear his head.  He didn’t want to try going up the stairs again but I promised him I’d help and he was able to make it back up the stairs the second time.

It was really sad to see him fall like that.  Wes and I have seen Doc fall a host of times.  When he was a baby puppy he decided to sit down at the edge of the stairs and fell himself right down them.  The first time he tried running on ice he slipped and slid himself into a tree.  Those were all humorous moments, because most of the time it’s hilarious when someone or something falls down.

Not this time.  This time it made me cry; because of what it means.

It means the arthritis in his hips is getting bad enough that stairs might soon be too formidable a challenge for even the great Doc Holliday puppy extraordinaire.  When he tore his ACL last year, the vet told us that arthritis started developing almost immediately because he was walking on his hips badly.

It’s hard to say how long he’ll have with us.  For all we know, he could walk around with a hitch in his giddyup for the next ten years, or he could decide he’s in too much pain to go on another month.  We watched him closely today, trying to limit how much he uses the stairs as much as possible, and he seems to be as fine as he ever is.  He’s walking ok, and, barring a strange vomiting episode this morning, acts with his customary enthusiasm and general brutishness.

We know that someday we’re more than likely going to have to euthanize him.  I can’t even begin to think of what that’s going to be like, so I won’t even try, but knowing that it’s in the future lends a poignant sweetness to our time with him now.  He may not be able to go for walks, or play fetch or tug o’ war, but he’ll catch a ball if you throw it up in the air, and he still enjoys chewing and eating things.  We know there are bright spots in his life.

We’ve found new games we can play with him that don’t stress his hips and knees.  Games like rolling the ball back and forth (sounds boring but he rolls it over with his nose and it’s major league cute) or finding the crumbs I drop when I cook or doing tricks to earn peanut butter or biscuits.  He’s still happy, which I’ll take to mean we’re doing our job well.

Someone asked me today if we’d get a new dog when Doc passes away.  I’m not sure.  I think back to puppyhood, with the ensuing training and sleeplessness and the strange stains and the destruction and want to run away screaming “No no no no no no!”  Then I look at how much fun it is to watch the puppy’s legs grow too long for the rest of him, and remember the thrill of the first time the puppy obeys a command, and little puppy kisses, and I’m not so sure.

All I know is that, strange stains notwithstanding, I’d really miss this:

Is it just me, or does Doc look exactly like one of those bears catching fish in the river?

I was roused from my two-weeks-of-having-nothing-to-do torpor when I looked at the calendar and realized that today is the very last day of the year. That’s it. Finito. This is 2008′s last hurrah, and I almost missed it because I was too busy trying to get past the exasperating fourth level of BrickBreaker.

Looking back, I can’t really say I’m sad to see 2008 go. It was a very trying year in almost every meaning of the word. It had some good points, sure. Wes and I travelled to Israel, we built a snowman, I quit my evil HR job and jumped ship over to the blogging profession, we remodelled our house, I wrote my first novel. In some ways, it was a great year.

For the most part, though, it was a really hard year. I got laid off, Doc started eating everything in sight and required one major surgery and one almost-surgery and then tore his ACL for good measure, we found out we couldn’t sell our house because the mortgage market went kaplooey and we couldn’t afford to buy a new house, my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, there was a sadistically drawn-out election, the US economy went on a trip down the toilet, and Wes and I learned that while we can stand having our house at 65 degrees, we really don’t like it. At all. Not even a little bit.

I have no idea what 2009 is going to bring. I’m inclined to be optimistic, because that’s infinitely more likely to keep me from drinking heavily at 10 in the morning than being pessimistic, but I’m not naive. I know that the first quarter of 2009 is poised to have the US endure one of the worst rounds of lay-offs any of us have ever seen. I know that our currency is in trouble and I worry about what that could mean for us all. I know that we have a President-elect who’s heading into office at one of the worst times in recent history and I wish him all the luck in the world because he’s going to need it.

On a brighter side, I do have some hopes for 2009. Even though I know that it’s likely to be tough, it certainly doesn’t hurt to sprinkle your doom with a little hope, does it? As such, here are my hopes for the new year:

• I hope that Wes’ new job takes off like wildfire. He started a new job about two months ago and it’s starting to build momentum. He’s been really busy, and I’m hoping all that hard work will pay off for him.
• I hope my Dad’s cancer runs away screaming with its cancery little head on fire.
• I hope Doc’s leg doesn’t bother him too much and that we can continue to keep him around for a long while longer.
• I hope for a nice warm spring and for lots of pretty flowers in our gardens.
• I hope to continue losing weight, though this might mean I have to start exercising again. Boo.
• I hope to be able to expand our family.
• I hope for better pie crusts.

That just about sums it up. I think you’ll agree I’m not asking for the moon here, so hopefully these hopes will all find their way to fruition in some way or another. I decided a long time ago that Resolutions made at New Years are no fun. They’re strict, unbending, and they start the new year out on a very stern note.

Hopes are much more fun, and 100% more likely to not make you feel like a failure should you not meet them. Whatever you’re rocking this year, be it resolutions, hopes, or an action-item list, please share with me. I’d love to know what’s on your radar this year!

I just had the best. day. ever. I started the day by sleeping in. Then, I made breakfast for the three of us (husband, dog, and myself), toddled about the Internet for a little while, then gave myself a pedicure.

In the middle of said pedicure, my mother-in-law called and asked me if I want to go dress shopping so that I have something cute to wear to Wes’ sister’s upcoming wedding. I thought to myself, the last time I went shopping was in October…of last year. I also haven’t left the house, save once, since Tuesday of last week…Hmm, I wonder if I would like to go shopping…???

My hearty and enthusiastic yes was met with great rejoicing and it was off to the mall we went (we were driven by Wes’ Dad, who is surprisingly fun to shop with. I had thought that the Y chromosome precluded any chance of being fun to shop with but I have apparently been missing something).

We were looking for one black dress and we ended up taking home two little black dresses because they were both awesome and one of them was 80% off. Score! I showed them off to Wes when I got home and they both meet the spousal standards of approval so I get to keep them (and the king said: Hooray!).

After a whole afternoon of shopping, I’m home, cosmo martini firmly in hand, and my legs feel sore and tired from all the robing and disrobing I was doing. Whoever says that shopping isn’t exercise is either lying or broke.

I had forgotten how crowded the malls are during the holidays, though. People were everywhere! I almost never go to the mall, so my senses were delightfully overwhelmed by all the colors, smells, and sounds of so many people crammed into one place.

Now that I’m home, and my new (beautiful! classy! stupendous!) little black dresses are safely ensconced in my closet, I’m thoroughly enjoying sitting in my comfy chair and sipping my martini. Even if my mother-in-law hadn’t bought me two immensely covetable dresses, I’d still be pleased as punch about getting to go shopping.

Alas, never one to miss out on the fun, Doc has decided that he’d like to have a little fun too and has successfully managed to drop his toy down the stairs, onto the hardwood floor, wherein it bounced up and landed with a wet splashy thud in his water bowl. Excuse me while I attend to my soaking wet puppy who has been trying, unsuccessfully, to fish his slippery wet toy out of his water bowl, will you?