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Despite the fact that it is becoming increasingly clear that we are not recognizing the Summer of Lincoln this weekend, as in we don’t seem to be going to the cabin, I still have high hopes for the next couple of days. After all, I don’t need to swim to have fun; swimming just makes it a guarantee. When you get right down to it, no matter where we are, it’s still the weekend.
That means we don’t have to get up at 5 a.m. It means the doors are open and we can come and go as we please. And, most importantly, it means lots of one on one time with my Mom and Dad, and this is pretty much always fun for us. My Mom told me the other day that we have to make sure to appreciate the good days. She said that just like our sadness has no basement, our happiness has no ceiling. I take this to mean that everything is going pretty well for me, considering my diagnosis and all.
My Mom told me a secret the other day. I think she told me because she felt guilty for making me wear that stupid life jacket again. She seriously tried to convince me it was like a super-hero cape and would give me super-hero floating powers…like I’m dumb enough to fall for that.  Heeelllooooo….I’m a golden retriever, not a simpleton. Evidence below, btw. At least she got me a vest in a more original color than that silly orange.


Anyway, I digress. Her secret is that she doesn’t like to run with the new dog, Murf. When my Mom and I would run, as I’ve mentioned, I didn’t even need a leash. Evidently Murf, is a VERY BAD LEASH DOG, and she yanks my Mom all over the place, which is very disruptive to the serenity my Mom is trying to achieve during her run. So, my Mom is running without a dog again. I wish I could say I was sorry, and I am a little ashamed to admit it, but I sort of like that I can’t be replaced. It’s selfish, I know, but I’m secretly glad that it didn’t work out with Murf.  Also, I REALLY like the fact that when my Mom puts on her running clothes, I’m not the only dog getting left behind. Silly Murf, if only you were as smart as me everything could be so great for you.
At least I’m going for a walk every day. It’s not the same as running, but it’s still nice to get out into the neighborhood again.  I heard my Mom tell the neighbors that it’s sort of tough being in limbo about my diagnosis, but then she also mentioned that it’s not like somebody stamped an expiration date on my behind, and cancer or no cancer, you can never really know when your time is up. She’s right, and it just reinforces the policy I’ve always had. Go forth, wag, and be happy, is what I think. It reminds me of this saying she told me once, “The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.”  Henry Miller

It’s been a week since my last chemo, and even though my Mom was a little worried she’d let me over-do it at the lake last weekend, I’m feeling great.  When I’m feeling great, I’m happy, and when I’m happy, then everyone is happy. Around here, happiness seems to be sort of contagious, which makes me really glad about what my Mom said earlier about our happiness having no ceiling. And if there’s no ceiling, this means we can all fly, right?

This is me and our great neighbor, George, at the cabin. I’m still playing ball, as you can see. Murf and Quasi are watching the fun, but look who has the ball!

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