I've been stuck thinking about obituaries the entire day. This isn't a bad thing. I actually saw the most glorious obit of all time this morning. The Rude Pundit shared it on Twitter (and I retweeted it, so it appeared on my Facebook pages). It isn't my own writing, so I won't quote swathes of it, but I from what I remember, it sounded more like a roast of someone who was deeply loved than a syrupy sweet whitewash of someone's life. It was one last chance to tease husband/dad/grandpa about how he turned on Phineas and Ferb for the grandkids, sometimes when they were even there. He was preceded in death by family members, his car, and his hip. That sort of thing went on for several paragraphs. All I could think of was if my family goes so far as to put an obit in the paper for me, they had damned well better write something like this. I suppose if my parents or brother want the same treatment, we should start planning now. If the kids are nice, I'll even make notes for them ahead of time.
When we were still in high school, my favorite person from those days (okay, yes, there was an on-again-off-again crush that never once went anywhere) told us what songs he wanted played at his funeral. He was the biggest fan of The Police back then, and he said we were to play "Darkness" and "Secret Journey" for him if/when he died. He and I lost touch in our 30s, and I wasn't aware when he went through a battle with cancer. Thankfully he won that battle, so I didn't miss out on my chance to swoop in and remember his advance directive from the mid 1980s. I typically write him on his birthday (we don't communicate much beyond that), so maybe I should ask if that's something he still wants. I bet he doesn't even remember it.
I need to warn everyone that one of the stars of Scenes from Smith Park is not well, and I don't mean me. My little red-headed dog has always been a picky eater. At first we weren't overly concerned when he refused a couple of breakfasts. But it has gotten more frequent, and he hasn't been keeping any food down lately. The reason his official name is Captain Speed Bump is that he was once "the dead dog in the road" who popped his head up right as we were driving by. He always had problems with kidney stones after being hit by a car before we found him. So when I noticed he has started taking longer to pee again, I assumed there was another stone. Bump went to the vet today, and he has lost nearly 10 pounds since last summer. He had blood work and x-rays done, and after being held for hours for observation, they concluded he might have a tumor in his bladder. When I scratched his belly at bedtime tonight, I felt all of his ribs. This weight loss seems very sudden. He is the greatest dog of all time, so we are not just going to ignore this, but for those who consider themselves fans of his, I wanted you to have time to prepare. I promise, we are going to discuss him with specialists, and make sure we do what is best for him. But at 12 years old, we know he may need to start telling us how he wants to be memorialized. Getting a choir of squirrels to sing his praises is going to be difficult, but I bet that is his first ask.
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