Monkey mind.

I've been feeling a sense of dread lately.

It's hard to describe. Mostly, it expresses itself in tears.

Being Cancerian, I've lived a moody life. Being menopausal, my mind has gotten even more capricious and swings from happy to sad and gungho to nervous in 2 blinks of a stitched-up eyelid. I have some idea of why I've been feeling particularly down lately but am not ready to share it.

One day last week, while walking through Hyde Park on the way to exercise class, I started fantasizing about moving to Somewhere Else. It wasn't a new thought but, at that moment, it was unexpected. The Other Half and I have been talking about it on and off for years, more and more lately, as many people getting old do.

In this particular fantasy, The Other Half and Georgia and I were on the road.

I imagined us living in Bali, New Zealand, India, Morocco and Brazil, hopping from Place to Place, living as 3 fortunate beings with no ties, obligations or dependants might do.

Then, one day, in SomePlace, it was time to get down on the floor, give Georgia a big cuddle and kiss, say goodbye and send her off on Her Last And Most Excellent Adventure, before continuing on our own.  

It was clear as anything in my mind's eye.

I don't know how I managed to imagine all that in my short 10 minute walk along Elizabeth Street, through Hyde Park, and past the Anzac mausoleum. I suppose it was like those flashes of your life that you're supposed to get when you die.

By the time I got to exercise class, I was sucking in snot, surreptitiously dabbing wet eyes with my knuckles and pretending I had a cold.

*

Today is Georgia's birthday, that we celebrate on the day we got her.

She's been with us 3 years now and is almost 4. Soon, when people ask if she's an old dog (she gets that a lot because of her white muzzle), I won't be able to feign indignation. It was around this age that Rufus hurt his leg and started to go downhill.

As a biggish dog, I don't expect Georgia will live to be 15 unless we're terribly lucky. As part Dane, whose average lifespan, I'm told, is 7, I'm hoping she'll make it to 10 in good health.

I don't mean to be sad today and am writing this just to get it off my chest.

The Other Half has bought Georgia a lovely big lamb bone. She won't be getting a birthday cake because I can't (be bothered to) bake but I don't think she'll miss it. I'll give her some peanut butter and bloodwood honey on a bikkie and a few pieces of white nectarine instead. She'll get a butt squeeze, 2 good walks [weather permitting] and she'll be a very happy dog.

Today, I'm going to try not to do any more useless panicking and work instead, on stilling my monkey mind.

 HaPpy *3 yEars *

and* 8 months  

Georgia!

You're a good girl

and we love you lots x