I don’t know about you, but I can’t say 2023 ended on a good note for me. In fact, I’d say it was a bad note. Totally off key. Actually, I should have known something was up toward the end of December when I had one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did. Maybe the moon was in the Seventh House and Jupiter aligned with Mars (to steal a line from The Fifth Dimension).

Basically, something was off. I knew it the minute I stepped in a pile of dog poop (I suspect Skip) on my way to the bathroom at 5:30 a.m. Why that early? Because my dog Taffy, who snoozes next to me, sneezed right in my face. I’d been asleep approximately 2 1/2 hours and knew that was all I’d be getting. And to be honest, it was diarrhea. I almost left that out so as not to repulse you but I changed my mind.

Anyway, the day only got worse from there. I’ll spare you the boring details, mainly because I don’t remember them. But to compensate for my poor memory, I carry a notebook with me in case I find a blog topic to jot down. Now don’t get me wrong; this notebook basically holds my entire life’s to-do list, weeks worth of this and that which mean nothing to anyone but me (except the person who found it that day in my grocery cart and kept it).

But the worst part of 2023 was the rapidly declining health of my almost 14-year-old, 3-legged Border Collie mix, Callie. I’d been helping her up the stairs to bed for weeks but then she began struggling just to walk, or in her case, hop. Her body was losing its strength so on our last walk I practically carried her home.

Once she couldn’t walk, Callie started having “accidents” in the house and I could see it bothered her. Her quality of life was gone and I knew it was time. I’ve always believed the best gift we can give our pets is knowing when to say good-bye.

Our last night together I couldn’t sleep so I lie next to her in the family room, my arm draped over her side so I could feel her breathing. In the morning my neighbor Paul carried her to my SUV. Callie always adored Paul and her tail wagged as he gently placed her on a blanket for the drive to Marin Humane to be euthanized.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, a couple days before Christmas I started feeling crappy but I thought it was just grief. My head ached as though it was caught in a vice, not that I’d know what that felt like. But my throat was sore and my body felt like I’d just run a marathon carrying a backpack of bricks. So I tested myself. You guessed it: Covid.

So there went my Christmas plans. Instead, I slept all Christmas Eve, other than to feed my pets. Even with 10 of them, the house still felt empty without Callie. Poor Skip, who groomed Callie’s head and ears every night, looked lost.

But it’s a new year and we’re on the rebound. When the rain stops, I’ll bury Callie’s ashes under the pine tree in the backyard where many of my pets from the last 30 years are resting. The thing is, when bad stuff happens, as well as the good, I remind myself that nothing lasts forever. From that comes appreciation for what and who I have in my life.

In all things, this too shall pass.