Here's the same photo I took Friday and posted today over at the Diorama. It's not often I get a picture which includes buildings from 6 different decades of the 20th century in one relatively narrow snap. Perhaps I'm using the sepia setting too much, but I really love the depth I'm getting with it. I was heading north on Harwood and snapped this quickly out of the window before the light turned to green, so I didn't really have time to think of lining anything up or worrying about composition. The bottom building on the right with the glass block cubes is where the nightclub Blue is located, and--at least the last time I heard-- this is a pretty swank watering hole.
My computer is in the game room, and there's a daybed nearby which the doglet naps on as I tap the plastic. Nearly every word I've written on this blog has been accompanied by the rasping intakes of her slumbering breath. (OK, you can call it snoring when we're talking about your dog, but I'll choose to perceive hers as a trifle more refined!)
I just went to the kitchen to put water on for a cup of tea, and she leapt up and accompanied me as she's done countless thousands of times in the last 15 years. Even as her old joints get creaky, she still wants to be there with me, no matter what mundane task I'm about. There's no argument, no reproach, no defiance or battle of wills. Just an abiding little presence that tells me she's there for me and I want to do. If I'm sick, she'll stay in bed with me for days. If I cry, she stays near and frets over me. If I want to walk for miles (ok, she'd rather run), she's up for it.
Funny thing is, I can understand why cat people sniff at the cloying devotion of dogs--cats have an independent streak which is admirable. There's also something to be said for a pet you can leave for a few days and know it won't really notice you were gone. Still, I prefer the sweet will of a dog that bends to its benevolent dictator. Here's to a girl's best friend.
Happy Easter, folks!