2019: Already a year of change and loss round here

I’ll start with the more humorous stuff. This week, for various reasons, I donated my hair to charity. It was a bit daunting, because I wasn’t sure how much they were going to take off, but the answer is, this much:

jan 2019 haircut

Sorry to disappoint anyone who had a mental image wherein I looked Flattering, eh

Anyway, that all looked fine and dandy – even if very much shorter than it has been since I was two – and she didn’t even charge me, so there was a lot to do with running around doing publicity pics as best I could (local business, support, etc). After which I went for a nap and woke up looking like Tom Baker. Despite my best efforts with mousse, I appear to be doomed to stay that way, at least until it grows out. My prediction is I’m gonna end up with a Brian May before this is all better.

Two days after that, just as I was attempting to get the Twelve Days of Cthulhu-mas into a publishable format (and discovering I was probably going to have to do the whole. Thing. Over. Because I do not understand the difference between a JPG and a PNG, oh cruel stupidity)…

Dogface woke up ill. Like, really ill. I will spare the details in case anyone who knew him ever reads this and doesn’t need to know, but it was clear he was on his way out. Despite this, he faithfully tried to guard us as he always did, following us from room to room despite the way his legs wouldn’t carry him half the time, and generally just breaking my heart. I couldn’t concentrate on the redoing of the (possibly) publishable, and I feel really bad about that because one of the G Monster’s mates offered to help me out with that and as far as I know she’s upholding her end of the work.

Dogface got put down this evening. I’ve only had the one dog, so I don’t have any real comparisons, but he was the most stubborn little bugger I’ve ever seen. Once he decided it was time, he fought against every pill, injection, offer of food, syringe of nutrients, you name it. He was also utterly faithful. I know he was just a pet, and we only had care of him for a year, but he would be mortified if he understood he was thought of as just a pet. He did his best, even at the last, to guard us and count us and make sure we were safe, just as he did since he arrived; it’s just civilisation outstripped evolution there.

I’m still catching myself looking round to check he’s okay, though it’s only been a few hours.

He was well-known to the G-Monster’s entire family, having previously been cared for by his sister, his mum, and his brother, so there are lots of people grieving for him right now. On at least four continents, apparently, which is not bloody bad for a dog. Especially one who wasn’t expected to make it past ten weeks, let alone past fifteen years. Ha, we were so pleased that we had managed to take him on so many adventures in the past year, but on comparing notes with the G Monster’s sister tonight, turns out a lot of the places we’d taken him, in the hopes that they’d be exotic, were places he’d been with her, too.

I’d go into more personal details but I know he was other people’s dog too, so I will leave it at this: I was kindly leant copies of his puppy photos. Here he is, oldest photo I have to newest.

baby simba


Awww. RIP. And yeah, Dogface, you didn’t manage to cost us all our money, as predicted, but you sure did break my heart.

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