This is my last portrait of my lovely Shih Tzu Sash, who became ill yesterday and died in the afternoon quite suddenly, although not 100% unexpectedly. It was a great final day for her, with eating, a walk, playing and devoted petting time, all unplanned, and I think her last moments were very comfortable. Hug your animals today! I am busy doing that with her surviving brother, Hyphen.
7 posts categorized "SHIH TZUS"
My future boyfriend Jonathan Bennett broke 2 ribs. Thanks, Bette Midler.
This book did not win a Lambda Literary Award.
Rudy Giuliani sounds like a Klansman at this point.
Red State's Ben Howe, a proud bully, pours acid on Michael Brown wound.
Wilson's freedom was a lock following D.A. & police errors.
The cops who blew away 12yo didn't administer first aid after he went down.
Fed judge decides Goodell's a liar, Ray Rice gets to play.
Benedict Cumberbatch dresses down his Cumberbitches.
Munchkin the Shih Tzu does runway.
Is Madonna dating tenor Jonas Kaufmann?
Forida going after the gays—again.
29-year-old Real World star has died.
DO NOT CLICK HERE...if you hate men in jockstraps. (Work Unfriendly)
Post-Thanksgiving laugh from 2013 never gets old.
Was Shia LaBeouf really raped? For art?
My babies are six years old today. Crazy. They were the picks of the litter. Well, they were the ones that were left and that we could take. I'd bet anything their brothers and sisters haven't had half as great a life as they have, but I hope they're happy and healthy. Hyphen (L) and Sash (R) were given oatmeal as their birthday treat. Impossibly, Sash (after only hearing it six times in her life) understands that "Happy birthday!" means good things are about to happen.
Get a dog and love it, if you can. Or a cat. Or another animal. They can be pains in the neck, but they're worth it.
Like a virus trying to invade a cell, "40" is closing in on me—it's official on the 25th, but I celebrated Saturday night with a "surprise" party thrown for me by my partner, José. I figured it out pretty much the moment after he hit "send" on the Evites. I'm bad about guessing things. I attribute my inability to be fooled to an early Christmas encounter with my mom, when I dared her to guess what I got her and she said, "Mmm...gloves?" She was right and I bawled my eyes out. The fact that she not only took a guess but tried hard to be right was not lost on me, so now I'm constantly trying to figure things out before I'm supposed to—finishing sentences out of characters' mouths as José tries to watch Desperate Housewives, theorizing whodunit when major crimes are announced and, of course, guessing that somebody, possibly somebody close to me, might be throwing me a surprise party for my 40th.