For longtime readers, you might remember an occasional writing about little Randy the chihuahua, the neighborhood watch commander whose favorite game for the last ten years has been chasing me down the road (and occasionally falling into snowdrifts) on the day's run and biting at my heels (I also named the asshole in my brain Randy in her honor) as I pass her house.

While Randy's still around (both corporeal and mental - though the latter iteration is FAR FAR FAR less overwhelming than before: it's nice to not hate myself all the time), she's been eight for a long time and is now going blind and not chasing me any more – though she did try: the other day she ran to the driveway when she heard me run past and barked and barked but never saw me. I could still hear her barking half a mile down the road.

And yes, I was as heartbroken by that as you probably are. I'll miss that little shit when the time comes.