Poor dear old Milo has had a challenging life. For 9 years, friends and strangers alike have heaped scorn upon him, for his Harvey-Keitel-in-Bad-Lieutenant barrel belly; for his unfortunate inability to stop drooling; for his little ratty tail; for his frequent hairballing; for his gas-passing; for his runny right eyeball; for his coarse, dandruffy hair; and—most especially—for the dead little toe on his left rear paw that looks like a dried-up black bean. But the other day I found him in an utter zen state. The photo catches a split second of what turned out to be 30 minutes of immobile dignity. He seemed, at last, to be at peace. (I eventually checked to see that he was still breathing. He was.)
1 comment:
My blind dog Coco does a similar thing when she happens upon sunrays coming into the kitchen.
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