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What a depressing entry this turned out to be…

September 15, 2006

This began as a sweet reflection on how time flies, but apparently that’s a dangerous subject for me to write about, as it turns maudlin and entirely unfunny really quick.  Better you just skip this one, readers.

This Saturday, I will have been married to the missus for six years; this Sunday at 8:06 AM our daughter will be exactly 9 months old.  Next March I will have been at the same job for a decade, albeit with several different roles within the company (gadfly, saboteur, vice president, dictator in exile, receptionist).  Ten years since I moved back to Los Angeles, 9 years since I met my future wife, two years since we bought our house together, nine months since the baby arrived.

Time seems to pass more quickly every year; I went on a hike in the Santa Anita mountains last weekend, a place I used to visit as a kid.  I found an old tree that some friends & I had carved our initials into.  The tree was still healthy & strong, taller than I remember, and our initials were clear.  “Happy 21st birthday, Feb 1990”.  Jesus, but I’m getting old.

It’s hardest, I feel, on the pugs, for their lifespans are so very brief.  Oscar’s already 7 years old, and he’s starting to break down.  His eyes have grown so large, like an old man’s earlobes, that he can’t quite close his eyelids when he sleeps.  As a consequence, he needs artificial tears dropped onto his gianormous puggy eyeballs every morning & night or they dry up and then he won’t even be able to blink. I worry most for the Little Baby Cupcake’s relationship to the pugs.  She’s going to be 5 or 6, completely in love with these little critters right as they’re shuffling off this mortal coil.

I have about eight months left while she’s still unaware enough that I could convincingly replace the current 7 year old pugs with new 1 year olds from a breeder, and as long as I called them Oscar & Lola, she’d probably not even realize.  But that leaves the question of what to do with the real Oscar & Lola.  As pugs, they don’t have a highly developed set of survival skills.  If only they had some sort of talent, I’m sure they could fend for themselves on the 3rd St Promenade down in Santa Monica…

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8 comments

  1. Hey, *I* turned 21 in Feb. 1990, too! Give me back my birthday, you bastard!

    So yeah, the passage of time is weird, and bittersweet to reflect on. But think of it this way — nine years since meeting your wife? And you’re still a young man in your 30s? Without meaning to go all Pollyanna on your ass, but I think you’re lucky! You have a life that you’ve been sharing with a partner and started a gorgeous, cupcakey/puggy family. The years are going to pass no matter what; better to pass them this way than many others.

    (See you next Friday. Bring pug pictures!)


  2. Just tell her that Lola (or Oscar) decided to move to Europe to be in movies. Then whenever you see a pug in a movie, say, “Look there’s Lola (or Oscar)!”


  3. You could take them to the place my parents seemed to have taken my dogs when I was a kid. Apparently there is some farm that you can take older dogs to where they can run and play and be with lots of other dogs! I’ll try a remember to ask my Mom what the name of that place was that they took sparky, cookie, sam, etc.


  4. BTW, I’m so old I couldn’t figure out how old you were by this entry.


  5. Actually, the 21st birthday in Feb 1990 was for my friend – I didn’t turn 21 until Nov 1992. So Scody, you share the same birthday month with a lovely woman who now lives in Connecticut.

    As for geewits & JK, you both put forth some very interesting ideas. Since pugs have been in plenty of movies & TV recently, there’s probably no shortage. Unfortunately I can just envision having the LBC tell a 2nd grade classmate that the pug in Men in Black III was her dog Lola only to be corrected on the spot; since we live in L.A., there’s a good chance her future classmate’s mom will be the on set hairstylist for Will Smith in the movie or something similar.


  6. I was all excited to see that I share birthday month with scody – until I realized you got the year wrong! I turned 21 in 1992, not 90. (And the amount of time it took me to calculate that shows that it has been a long time indeed since I was 21.)

    Bummer.


  7. D’oh! Of course you did. My bad. On the plus side, Scody, your birthday once again remains yours & yours alone.


  8. Cat’s in the cradle with the siver spoon
    Little Boy Blue and the man in the moon
    When you comin’ home, jonson, I don’t know when
    But the pug’s’ll be dirt surfin’ then, Dad
    You know they’ll be dirt surfin’ then

    (I’m really sorry about this. I just can’t…stop… the criminal hand implants…)



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