And in those quiet, kindly spoken, carefully chosen words, I knew all that I needed to know.
Tiny Dog has dilated cardiomyopathy. It appears to be advancing quickly, given the rapid increase of her heart murmur. She has a new drug regimen which will hopefully buy us some time. The vet indicated that it is possible she will enter heart failure within a few months, and with the addition of further medications, may yet live a bit longer - perhaps a year. So we have a year, perhaps two if we are very lucky, left with Tiny Dog.
My own heart might be a bit broken. Broken for my Tiny Dog, and for Beloved Husband and the Offspring, who love this Tiny Dog. I cannot imagine that day when I must tell them that Tiny Dog's tiny life is folding to a close. (Or, perhaps, I can imagine far too well, but the anticipatory grief is too much yet to bear.)
I know that medical predictions can be an inexact science. She could, after all, defy odds and live a long, happy life yet. Nevertheless, I prepare myself for the careful, watchful waiting -- as I once did with my beloved ottoman-shaped dog -- and will be mindful of our time with her, knowing that our time is short.
It's catchy. The video is unusual for its abundance of glistening, barely-dressed men (unlike what seems to be the vast majority of music videos, which commonly feature gyrating, curvaceous, scantily clad women). None of the men particularly appeal to me -- but the song certainly does.
NinjaHead resides with a muffin-baking woman known herein as Herself. Herself has a Beloved Husband, with whom she shares three nearly-grown Offspring. When she is not writing Things, Herself nurtures a visceral fondness for small furry creatures. The household menagerie, which has varied in size and composition over the years, presently contains a minuscule middle aged chihuahua, a most mild-mannered senior chihuahua, and a very small hamster who, due to the prominence of his gonads, seems to need trousers for decency.