Sophie is six years old today. It's both hard to believe I ever lived a day without her, and also startling that five years have passed. Oh, Sophie, My Sophie - you are probably still wondering when you signed up for this. The moving to Asheville, the moving back to Florida, but not to the house where I first took you, to mama working from home, working nearby, and now, oh, hell, I'm gone 11 hours. She's a really good girl who uses potty pads like a pro (she was raised by pros before I got her) but, STILL. She didn't sign up for this. Neither did I, but she's just along for the ride of Mama's Questionable Decisions. But she's happy and cuddly, and snorting and bouncing. When I take her for her (all too brief) morning walk before I leave for work, all I have to do to turn her around is tell her it's time for her morning chewie. She gets a morning dental chew after breakfast. This morning, when I told her it was chewie time, she started racing for home, dancing around, and slipped, flipped onto her back, did a quick break dancing spin, and bounced up again and kept running. A neighbor who saw her laughed out loud, and so did I. She's Delightful.
Sophie turning six is another one of those things making me think about how life has picked up speed, in a very unsatisfying way. Only the work days are really effing long.
Right now, I'm going to adjourn to the couch with my birthday girl, and hug her and pet her and feed her Goldfish crackers, and go to bed early, to start the Wednesday lap of the marathon at 5 a.m.