Cola is six months old and her energy levels have officially gone through the roof. Walks are not enough, now. Now, we need to play frisbee WHILE walking.
Cola is three days post spay, so we took an evening walk. Short but glorious.
A few weeks ago I was asked during a critique of a piece I wrote with two POV’s which voice was mine. Was I the timeless, sweet, warm voice or the tongue in cheek humorous voice? I didn’t even have to think about my answer.
Life is full of moments that take my breath away, make me cry, leave me feeling moved beyond words. And then it farts, or trips or flashes me a bare assed moon and I laugh ’til my tummy hurts.
Life is both, too.
I took Cola to meet my dad today. He would have loved her and fed her forbidden snacks and let her get away with stuff he shouldn’t have and generally spoiled her rotten. And while I sat at the gravesite, Cola calmed her hyper, 6 month old self down enough to crawl into my lap and snuggle and the sweetness of it made me weep. Of course, it didn’t last long, and before I knew it she had jumped off my lap, squatted over Dad, and peed all over him. And in that moment I could almost hear Dad’s laugh again. Almost.
Life is laughter and life is tears and life is everything in between and so am I and so is everyone else.
Someone once told my dad he could go from “the profane to the profound” in one sentence. Dad took that as a great compliment. I take that as a goal to aspire to.
Growing up is hard to do. Especially when you get spayed.
We are building a deck and Cola loves spending time on it. We have not, however, built the steps yet. Cola hated it when she ended up on the ground and we were on the deck. She hated it enough to learn a new skill.
Her mommy is a chocolate lab, her daddy is a blue heeler. She is Cola.