That’s the only question these days, and it doesn’t have a straightforward answer.
He’s great: He loves our micro-hikes and fast food trips. He loves friends dropping by with beef stew, cheese, bacon treats, and snuggles. Lots and lots of snuggles. He loves taking super slow strolls with lots of long pauses around the block. Then, he sleeps and sleeps and sleeps.
He’s exhausted: He’s never been so tired. He has spurts of fun, happy, joyful moments followed by long, totally zonked naps.
He’s himself: He’s silly and obstinate. He snipes across the street at dogs who look at him funny. He wrestles daily with Cooper. Like this:
He’s not himself: His gums started to bleed a bit. The oncologist thinks that’s perhaps a sign of the osteo cropping up in his jaw because it isn’t a side effect of his medicine. He doesn’t seem to be in pain; he still chews his bone and plays tug with Cooper, but we switched him to a mostly canned food diet, just in case his teeth are sore. And the occasional turkey cheeseburger and grilled asparagus…
How’s Lucas? Mostly, entirely good. He’s happy. He’s having fun. He’s playful and spirited and still refuses to come when called. He’s feeling it, though, and we’re struggling not to grieve. It’s truly an odd thing, grieving the living. It’s exhausting.
In the meantime, I’m pretty much offline. I do my work, teach my class, then spend time with my herd. I turned notifications off on my phone (I HIGHLY recommend this… I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal… it’s life changing) so that I could stay focused in the moment.
How’s Lucas? Great today, but all we can do is take it one day, one step, one hop at a time.