A Year Down the Road

Yes, dear readers, it HAS been a whole year since we closed on our house in High Point and began the odyssey down I-85 South to make a home in GA. [You can read that post by clicking here.]

To recap a bit...Missy M graciously shared her home with us (dogs, too, thank Heaven!) while we became locked in a much more protracted house-hunt than we could ever have dreamt. Thanks to the best realtor we have ever worked with as purchasers (yay, Rose!), we eventually found “it”...exactly the right house on the right lot in a town and a county we’d never known nor would ever have found on our own.

Check one off the bucket list:
find a whole sand-dollar

Along the way, we had a grand adventure to Arizona and have been to the mountains and to the beach, where I was able to check “find a whole sand dollar” off my bucket list. We said sad goodbyes to our Abbie-girl and M’s Miss Dixie...both left holes in our hearts that have only begun to mend with the additions of Logan and Pepper to Casa 303, as well as Rowan at 2244. The Adsit Adventure continues, and the Drool Gang is back to the full complement of 5.

Newest Drool Gang Members:
Rowan and Pepper

MDBT to WDW

Missy M and I renewed our annual tradition of Mother-Daughter Bonding Trips (MDBTs) with a week at the Most Magical Place on Earth. And it is...and it was...!

I found a wonderful group of Master Gardeners in my new County of Walton to help close the gap created when I left Guilford...and to reenergize me with lots of volunteer opportunities. I have worked closely with this year's MG training class (which has kept me on the go every Tuesday and Thursday from early January through the end of  March)...such a great group of people I might add. Slowly but surely, I am learning my way around Walton, one MG commitment at a time.

Columns in Walton Tribune

I began writing a bi-weekly gardening column for the Walton Tribune, as well as a monthly "gardening tips" column for the Loganville Insider, which means I get another check on a bucket list item: "become Elizabeth Lane* when I grow up."

So, what’s happening now, you might ask? Well, we are focusing our time and energy on maximizing our 1/3 acre property to create a kitchen garden space as well as a berry patch and a rose garden. Smaller than our 4-year plan for HPNC in size and scope, but more effective use of the ground we have, we hope.

Not to be too eye-rollingly obvious with the references...while we are putting down roots here, I feel like we are spreading our wings and embracing retirement.

And how is that coming along? Let me let the pictures do the talking...

We brought plants & things with us from NC...

...and then we had to till up the GA clay.

 OK, tilling up GA clay might work for a few irises, daylilies, and liriope (oh my...aching back!), but we are NOT planting our kitchen garden in the native soil here, folks. To mis-quote the Great Wizard: "No way, no how." Altogether now: RAISED BED GARDEN (RBG)...WOO HOO!

...and it should go about...here!

A raised bed garden (RBG) is in our future...

...and then we fill it!

First Mr. T builds it...

Voila! It looks like this!

I have seeded the new RBG with beans, melons, squash, and cukes...but you will have to take my word for that. It is way too chilly still to put the tomato and pepper transplants in the cold, cold ground.  Another week, maybe...

Meanwhile, the seeded transplants wait patiently...soaking up some rays on a sunny day...

Tomato and pepper transplants...waiting for 55 degree nights

Folks, trust me when I say, this is really starting to feel like home.

And, to think, it only took a year...

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*So, who is Elizabeth Lane, you ask? Have you ever seen Christmas in Connecticut, a "true" holiday classic from 1945, and one of my all-time favorites? Certainly, the story is a bit farcical at times, but the characters more than make up for it. Barbara Stanwyck plays the character of magazine columnist Elizabeth Lane, who is one of the country's most famous food writers. In her columns, she describes herself as having a farm in Connecticut, where she spends her days taking care of her child and her husband and being an excellent cook.

Lies...all lies! In reality she is a single New York City apartment dweller, who can't boil an egg and who doesn't "even own a window box." The recipes all come from her good friend Felix (played by the ever-delightful S.Z. Sakall). The owner of the magazine she works for (played by Mr. T's personal favorite actor in mid-century movies, Sydney Greenstreet) has decided that a heroic sailor named Jefferson Jones (played by the engaging Dennis Morgan) will spend his Christmas on *her* farm in Connecticut. Miss Lane knows that her career is over if the truth comes out, so what can she do to save her job?

Anyway...makes for an entertaining Christmas tradition in our family.

I totally connect with Elizabeth Lane's columnist character. Not the food writer part, necessarily (although I guess I have done my share of recipes, even if I don't have an "uncle" Felix to cook for me). And not the "living a lie" part either...since I do indeed have a window box and very-nearly a micro-mini farm, so writing about gardening is much more authentic for me than writing about food was ever intended for Elizabeth Lane. No, it's the I-want-to-be-that-clever-of-a-writer-when-I-grow-up part. And have my own column part.

So, when I saw the words "Columnist" after my name for the first time in the Walton Tribune, you know I was thrilled. It matters not that this is in Monroe, GA instead of NYC...no, the bucket list item said "write a gardening column."

Check!

It's That Time of Year

The Christmas Waltz song keeps running through my mind today...

Frosted window panes, candles gleaming inside
Painted candy canes on the tree
Santa's on his way, he's filled his sleigh with things
Things for you and for me

It's that time of year when the world falls in love
Ev'ry song you hear seems to say
"Merry Christmas, may your New Year dreams come true"
And this song of mine in three-quarter time
Wishes you and yours the same thing, too

Right.  The candles on our window sills just went off on their timers, as did the Christmas tree, and I'm eating a candy cane as I type. Check, check, and check! But, honestly people, the only way our window panes would be "frosty" today is if I went out and soaped them! I think we may have hit the mid 60's again today, after 72 earlier this week. I don't want to sound all Scroogy, but I hate December weather that feels more like May. Bah! Humbug. Still, I hope that Santa will come our way...even if he has to leave the furs in the North Pole and wear a pair of Bermuda shorts!

Maybe we should be singing my favorite song from The Muppets Christmas Carol...makes me laugh every year when I watch it:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwahCM3mC9A. Put me in a better mood, just now.

OK! So, we are a week away from Christmas Day. How are things coming along? Well, I've most of my baking done, as you can see in these pictures of Hello Dollies and Delaware Butterballs; Banana-Cranberry muffins; and star-shaped Sugar Cookie cutouts:

 

 

 

Missy M made a batch of Nana's Nuts and Bolts (our name for Chex Mix) after Thanksgiving...which we consumed in record time. Maybe we can get her to make some more, please. Oh, and I pulled out Nana's recipe for Cheese Ball...simple but always tasty...and made both a cheese ball and a cheese log from the same batch. Must have the savories with the sweets!

We'll have M's Breakfast casserole on Christmas Day; and unless we are entirely too full (again this year), we'll roast a turkey breast with all the trimmings for dinner. Just need to make our traditional coconut cake for dessert...oh, and Monkey Bread for Christmas morning! I'll try to remember to take a picture of the finished product this year before we eat it.

I went to a wreath-making workshop a couple of weeks ago, and now my "masterpiece" adorns our front door. I'm really proud of this effort, because Missy M treated me to a similar workshop a few years ago in Louisville...and I was a complete klutz. This time, I had a better idea of what to do...and what I wanted the end product to look like. Plus, I wasn't afraid to use plenty of pins!

2015 Merry Christmas Wreath: I made it myself at Toms Creek Nursery!

We got the yard decorations out, the Sheepie tree up in the dining room window, and the aforementioned candles in the front bedroom windows:

We even got tickets to the NC Symphony's Holiday Pops, presented at High Point University. That always puts us in a festive spirit!

I've also got my annual newsletter typed, printed, and folded; and the cards are ready to be sealed and stamped (Mr. T's job this year) so we can make the mad dash to the P.O. tomorrow to barely meet the deadline. I do believe I have all my shopping done...and even more importantly, my purchased gifts are all wrapped and under the tree. I have one gift to finish knitting (so what else is new?), which should happen tonight. And then...I can sit back, relax, and enjoy the season, right? Well, it's a plan.

Why am I so far ahead of the game, you ask? Well, everything was accelerated because our Lunn Family Christmas get together was earlier than usual this year, meaning most of the shopping, wrapping, etc., had to be done by December 11. T&LaD drove down from KY, Missy M drove up from GA, and Mr. T. and I drove over from NC to meet up in Nashville last weekend. We had a wonderful time together! Breakfasts at the Bistro in the lobby of our Doubletree; dinner at Coco's Italian Market; and dessert and gift exchange at J&J's house. Superb!!

And we even got to attend "How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" at the Opry, with Stewart cousin Scott starring as Old Max (the Grinch's dog...all grown up and doing the narrating for the stage play). He has a fabulous singing voice, which he got to showcase on the song "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch." What a great performance! His dad, cousin Mark, even joined us for breakfast, making it an all-around family weekend. Check out the interview and pictures of SS in character here: http://www.broadwayworld.com/nashville/article/BWW-Interview-Bringing-THE-GRINCH-To-Life-At-The-Grand-Ole-Opry-House-20151130

Missy M will be taking some vaca days next week, so she'll head her Mini up I-85 on Sunday to join us for the Holidays. Her dogs, Ella Rae and Dixie, have been with us since she was here for Thanksgiving (they stayed with us due to her travel schedule in early December). Mr. T., who is still catching up on work after being out for 8 weeks, isn't planning on taking any days off, but neither is he planning on leaving town for business either. It should be a joyful and peaceful approach to the Season.

I do need to head to the grocery store for this n' that, but we aren't making ourselves crazy with last minute preparations this year. It has been so hectic for the past few months (all year, really) that we are relishing a more laid-back approach.

Fingers crossed that we achieve it. Toes, too! After all, it IS that time of year. Right?

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Here are a few photos from the past weekend. And don't forget to check out my final post for the year plus pictures, over on our gardening blog. Click here to go there!

Terry joins us for breakfast at the Bistro

Dessert and gift exchange at Jack and Julie's house

Cousins Mark and Scott Stewart with Patricia

Leaving the show...heading to dinner at Coco's Italian Market



Thomas, Julie, and Jack showing off the Christmas Cracker prizes: xylophones and crowns

The Long Goodbye

Once we became a multi-dog household, I began to count noses. It began with one-two: first for Barnie and Bea, later followed by Beau and Belle, then Boots and Tippy, and finally Duchess and Gus. When Elmo joined Duchess and Gus, I had to learn to count all the way up to three. One-two-three-four began when first grand-dog Charley adopted Missy M; we dropped back to one-two-three for a bit in 2007 until Ella Rae came along to cheer M up. When Dixie arrived in their house and would come for a visit, we hit the high water mark: one-two-three-four-five.

So, since the grand-dogs are here for Spring break, I got up this morning as I usually do, counting snouts: one-two-three-four...and then I remembered I had to stop. For Belle Bea Boots, Duchess of Dacula, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge yesterday, following a lengthy roller-coaster battle with cancer.

She had an amazingly long run for a Basset, whose lifespan is typically quoted at 10-12 years, living to a ripe, old age of  14 1/4 years. Even more amazing when you pause to consider that she has been on the downhill slope for nearly 5 years.

To begin her story, let's return to the Holiday Season of 2000, when we were still grieving over the death of Boots, who lost her battle with kidney disease at Thanksgiving. Missy M returned to her final semester of her Senior year at Mississippi University for Women in January, and I remember being doubly-sad that week.

Until...

We got a phone call from our sweet daughter, telling us she had seen an ad for a litter of Basset puppies on the school's list serv. Did we want her to go look at them? Now, we all know there is no such thing as just "go look at them" when we are talking about puppies...you better be prepared to come home with one, hadn't you? Mr. T's only instruction was "get a boy dog, please." I think he was weary of being the only member of our little family with a Y chromosome.

Anyway, M took a friend to see the litter, and they fell for the tiniest one of the bunch...who was also the only female. She brought her home to Dacula that weekend, and somewhere on the long trip from Mississippi to Georgia the runt of the litter gained a regal name: Duchess. When I sent in her AKC papers, I named her to honor the memory of those ones who had gone on: Belle Bea Boots, Duchess of Dacula.

Because Duchess was with us for so many years, we have mountains of memories. Like of how she teethed on a brick on the fireplace hearth. And how she used to get so excited when she heard her first boyfriend, Willie, as he barked when he went by on his daily walks behind our house in Dacula. How she bonded with Mr. T, who shared his home office with her for the first 8 months in residence.

How she loved walking to the mailbox to meet up with Flash, her Florida boyfriend...and how she stood at the back of the pool cage to bark at the cows in the Kissimmee pasture-land behind our house. How she said "I don't think so! when introduced to the Chip (or was it Dale) character at Disney's Animal Kingdom.

How she could always manage to put the brakes on full-stop and walk right out of her collar...and run faster than you could imagine anything on such short legs could go. And how she always thought she was a lap dog...even when she topped out at 60+ pounds.

Going for a walk with Duchess brought to mind how it must be when the Queen of England takes a ride in the countryside. If she could have managed that little wrist-wave, I'm sure she would have used it. Whenever she spotted another person, Duchess was certain s/he was coming just to see her...and she would wiggle-walk toward the on-coming subject and present her belly for a rub. OK, so maybe the Queen doesn't do that last part.

Duchess was pretty much a by-the-book Basset: "A calm pet that enjoys and needs human companionship. Relative to its size, it's the heaviest boned dog of any breed. Its deep, rolling bark can be amusing. This is a serene and well-behaved dog, but if it's spoiled it can become stubborn."

Did they say "human companionship? Yes, Duchess loved "her people." Other dogs? Not so much. She tolerated Gus, who we adopted thinking they would make great playmates. Not really. Most of the time, Duchess looked at him like she was just about to say "when are you coming to your senses and taking him back?"

When Elmo arrived, she was mostly indifferent...allowing the boyz to be boyz together. As the canine population of her world changed over the last few years, she simply adopted the attitude: "hey, I was here first. Deal with it."

Did they say stubborn if spoiled?  You better believe it...on both counts! She marched to her own drummer...and she typically expected all the rest of us to do likewise. Breakfast was to be served within 15 minutes of her sashaying into the kitchen. Dinner was to be at 6:00 on the dot. Oh, and there were expectations that whenever she...or anyone, for that matter...went outside and came back in there would be treats...plural. And there had better be water in each and every water bowl around.

There were some "bad" breed traits she had also: frequent ear infections, skin allergies, and skin tumors known as lipomas, which are normally benign fatty-tissue tumors. She endured several surgeries to remove multiple "lumps and bumps" over the years earning her the nickname "Duche$$."

Then in 2010, she was diagnosed with an infiltrative lipoma (one between her front legs that had grown into the surrounding muscle tissue) and another liposarcoma (the malignant form of skin tumor). Both of these were inoperable, meaning it was just a matter of time. [Read more about lipomas in dogs here, where they even have a picture of a dog with a lipoma on its chest, just like Duchess had: http://www.vetsurgerycentral.com/oncology_lipoma.html ]

As in life, Duchess set her own schedule for death. She knocked on the door on more than one occasion, prompting us into anticipatory action (regular readers might recall that is how we adopted Abbie, back in 2013). When she could no longer manage to get her back legs to follow her front legs up onto the sofa or bed or into her favorite chair (AKA: Mr. T's morning room chair), she simply began to tell us what to do when. We called this assistance The Butt Lift. Woof! became the Basset equivalent of "I said NOW!"

But, for the past week or so, things were steadily going downhill for the old girl. She stopped eating for a couple of days, followed by a few days of half-rations, only to return to not eating. Yesterday, we knew the time had arrived when neither of us could get her to take her pain meds, even though she was in obvious pain. So, we did the hardest job a pet parent must do: made the decision to make that long, sad trip to the Animal Emergency Hospital.

So, goodbye Missy D...Big Girl...the D-girl. We will miss you mightily. You gave us plenty of time to prepare for your departure, but we will still feel a hollow place in our hearts created by your absence.

And when I count noses tonight for dinner, I'll still say "five" in your memory.

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I put together an album with photos highlighting Duchess' life, which hopefully you can access here:
https://plus.google.com/photos/105465929538269305215/albums/6126948139919282065/6126948146015821762?pid=6126948146015821762&oid=105465929538269305215 

A Day Late...

Uh-oh. I let Friday turn into Saturday without posting to my blog. Shame, shame. Want to hear my excuses?

Excuse #1: Abbie. How could such a cute, little sweetie-pie be an excuse for anything, you ask? Ah, well. After three postponements (one due to her age...too young; one due to a change in vets; and one per our own vet's advice), we finally got the go-ahead during Monday's puppy appointment with Dr. K (for her parvo and bordetella boosters) for Abbie to be spayed. Her surgery took place yesterday...in Winston-Salem...and we had to check her in at "their" vet's on S. Stratford Road (23 miles away) between 7:30 and 8:30. Yawn.  Why didn't we just have Dr. K perform the surgery? Well, the contract we signed when we adopted Abbie from Forsyth Animal Control Shelter in February states quite clearly that we use "their" vet. They changed vets between Abbie's first and second postponements, which actually turned out to be a good thing, since I really liked the folks at Forsyth Veterinary Hospital...probably because they seemed to really care about Abbie, who was TERRIFIED when we took her in. We were told they would call us with a surgery update (which they did at 11:00), and that we could pick her up between 3:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon. Bottom line: she's fine...moving a little slowly, as you would expect. And we put over 100 miles on Mr. T's car in the there-and-back-and-there-and-back process. Bottom-bottom line? She is now officially and forevermore OURS! A bona fido member of The Drool Gang!!

Dogs lining up to get in the garden:
Duche$$, Elmo, and Abbie

Excuse #2: Making hay. You know that saying: make hay while the sun shines, right? Well, I decided we needed to GET some 'hay' while the sun was (finally) shining...and before Mr. T traded this co. car in for the next one (probably on Monday). They loaded us up with 8 bales of wheat straw at Tri-County Garden Center, and I used my small wheelbarrow to move them from the driveway to the staging area (a holding place in our back yard, for stuff that will eventually need to be moved into the Way Back), one bale at a time. Of course, when I put that first bale on the wheelbarrow, wouldn't you know that the tire was flat? So, Mr. T joined in the fun by firing up the air compressor, filling the tire with air, and then whooshing out the excess straw in his car with blasts of air.

Isn't Mr. T recovering from knee surgery...and on crutches...you ask? Yep! He sure is. He has really been a great patient this week: keeping that left knee elevated and iced; using the crutches almost every time he walks, even in the house; and not trying to drive here-there-and-yon...but I think he was getting a bit house-bound, if you know what I mean. So, he has eagerly been a passenger wherever I've driven his car in the past couple of days, and if he can get involved in one of my "projects," he's all-hands-on-deck...if not "all-feet..."

While at Tri-County, I also got some Sugar Baby watermelon replacement transplants (my seeds germinated, but the baby plants succumbed to the cutworms) and some seeds for lima beans and pink-eye purple hull peas. Which leads me to...

Excuse #3: The gardens. I cannot seem to stay out of them! Even when it's raining...which it has been doing A LOT lately...I find myself wandering around, looking at all the green and growing things, taking scores of pictures to document colors and growth rates. Amazing what a few days of rain and warm temps will do! The roses went from bare bushes to first flush of blooms to first petal drop almost overnight. The summer/warm season plantings are jumping out of the ground, and it will soon be time to begin removing cool season crops like broccoli and beets. But first, our lettuces and spinach were so lush and plentiful that I cut a tubtrug-full on Thursday, washed and spun it, and we delivered it to Open Door Ministries/Father's Table soup kitchen in High Point. Yes, I do love SEEING the stuff growing in the gardens...but I love SHARING the stuff even more.

Way Back Gardens in Mid-May
From Raised Beds looking toward Rose Garden

Excuse #4: Housework. Ugh. You may quote me on this. I hate housework...and it shows. But, while we were one dog down (with Abbie at the vet for the day), I thought it would be prime time to get some much-needed cleaning done. This 12-year old house has a central vac (fantastic!), which makes the pounds of dog hair history in no time flat...but the ancient, clunky floor wand and furniture tools combined with the heavy hose mean it doesn't get used nearly as much as if Mrs. Clean lived here. After yesterday's suck-a-lux-a-thon, the house just feels better...even if this illusion of clean is short-lived. The Drool Gang does still live here, after all.

Anyway, Abbie's home and recuperating. Mr. T is mending well. And, we head into this Memorial Day Holiday with happy hearts, a garden-grown salad for our cook-out, and a fresh, clean house.

And, although the sentiment comes a day late, I wish the same for you!

A Time to Say Goodbye

He was found wandering the streets of Hannibal, Missouri. He had no collar, no chip, and almost no lower front teeth...apparently from having chewed his way out of something strong like a chain link fence. The vet for the wonderful Guardian Angel Basset Rescue (GABR), who said he was probably between 5 and 7 years old, pronounced him healthy, if perhaps about 20 pounds underweight, and after a period with a foster mom in Western Illinois, ready for his forever home.

We were newly-arrived in our new-to-us home in O'Fallon...the first one we'd had with a fenced yard since we'd left Ohio. Duchess, just turned 2 the previous December, was still more-or-less a pup, with lots of energy to burn. Her principal playmate, Missy M had a job that kept her away from home during the week. Solution? Let's get her a playmate! The sun, moon, and stars aligned...and we were approved for adoption by GABR by the end of the week.

I remember the day we drove to the outskirts of Granite City, Illinois, for a meet-and-greet "visit" with a potential match. We were piled into the red Ford Explorer...Missy M, Duchess, and I...following the directions from the foster mom over the so-called New Chain of Rocks bridge and onto unfamiliar roads. When we arrived at the small, neat brick house, we were greeted...not by a Basset Hound as expected, but by a couple of Doberman Pinchers, along with several other eager canine faces. Then, a different kind of bark...and there he was. Red and white and ears and nose and beautiful. And I knew we weren't leaving without him.

Duchess, with her best I-am-Queen-of-the-Universe look, didn't have quite the same enthusiastic response. Not that there was any open animosity displayed...no, it was more along the lines of "Seriously? Why do you want another dog when you have me?"

We had all intentions of changing his name to Duke...for a certain symmetry, of course. The name he came with had been given to him during the adoption process. And "Gus" just sounded so, well, plain...and almost harsh when you shouted it out the back door: "Gus! Come get your supper!"

On the way home, I suddenly had a terrifying thought: "what if he doesn't like men?!" That's an issue with adopted dogs...you never know if they have suffered abuse, and when they have, it typically has come at the hands of males...and I had neglected to ask. So Missy M called the foster mom to find out...and she could offer no assistance. She was single, and she hadn't seen any interaction between Gus and a human male. So I began to worry about the first meeting between our newest family member and the Leader of our Pack, Mr. T.

No worries. No worries at all. They took to each other from the first like they had known each other all of their lives.

The only cause for pause in the day's activities came that first night. We all piled into the King-size bed ("just this once"...:-), and when play time was over, Mr. T tried to move Gus out of his spot. "Woo woo woo woo woo!" Nasty, snarling, downright scary. Nothing like a big, ol' sweet-natured Basset. Think Cujo.

We looked at each other in horror. What have we welcomed into our home and hearts? A monster? Duchess looked at us from her spot on the end of the bed as if to say, "I told you not to get him. When are you taking him back?"

Before we could spend too much more time in fear of our lives, Gus curled up into HIS spot and went off to sleep...with a smile on his face, if I recall correctly. Crisis ended.

Of course, the same thing, or some version of it, happened each and every time anyone tried to move G from HIS spot...wherever he decided that was for the moment. Just a part of his personality that we came to know and love. Well, with Duchess, "tolerate" would probably be a better word.

About the name change? Nah. I believe to this day that someone in the adoptive process observed one of his "Woo woo" tantrums and said, "my goodness. Isn't he a Fussy Gus?!" So Gus he was, and Gus he stayed.

Well. For the most part. He was also known as Gussie, Gussie-man, Mr. G, The G-man, Gussifer (like Lucifer...:-), Big Boy (once Elmo came into the Drool Gang as Little Boy), and several other names of endearment.

He loved BilJac Liver treats, probably because they were small and he could eat them easily, even with those filed-down front teeth. He enjoyed getting his hair dried, and would race down the hall when he heard the blow-dryer. He loved long, skinny soft stuffed toys...and I do believe he took inventory of what was in the Toy Basket on occasion. His favorite toy, however, was a red cherry tomato, which he would pick off the vine in containers on the deck...toss high in the air...and then catch like a rubber ball. He rarely broke the skin, but he would leave the "used" ones in the dirt where they would sprout the next year. Gus' Garden.

He was an Alpha dog and considered himself Pack Lead...yielding only to Mr. T, with whom he loved to spend nap-time on "their" lounge luge (as we call the Big Recliner). He was loud, large and in charge...and didn't miss an opportunity to tell the world. Woo woo!

Interestingly enough, he and Duchess never did learn how to be playmates. Ah well, no matter.

We celebrated nine wonderful years together in June, although that was subdued because he was not well. His big ol' heart had begun to give out on him, making breathing and walking difficult, and the steps nearly impossible. We knew it was his time last night when he suffered a seizure right before supper.

Thomas was with his buddy when Gus crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. He knew he was loved by his forever family. He will be missed...and never forgotten.

Rest in peace, Gussie-man. Woo woo.