I am not Claren

Claren the wonder dog had some modest gastrointestinal distress this afternoon. She is fine, but all afternoon, instead of little doggy snores drifting up from under my desk, the silent but deadly oder of doggy farts wafted up toward me.

I wasn't really worried, but Claren's tummy was on my mind. The problem is I kept thinking it was me having the gastrointestinal distress.

This comes a few days after a friend retired her service dog. It is a wrenching decision, and again I hope Claren and I get hit by a bus. But the big take-away is that although I like to pretend I am a bitter, jinxed misanthrope, but I know I am so lucky.

Mom and Dad will adopt Claren when she retires. She will be right around for me even when she is too old to actively help me. So thanks.