Make your own seal. Pretty sweet.

The end of my week is taking too long. I feel sandwiched by time, unable to tolerate the discomfort of now, and when it's not uncomfortable, unable to not fixate on how it will be again soon. How's that for a convoluted sentence? Roughly translated, I'm feeling twitchy.

I recently re-read my earliest entries, and one of them was about what I wimp I've become about cold. That trend continues. You can never have enough snuggly scarves and warm socks, when it gets down into the brutal mid-50s here in Texas.

On a less self-indulgent note, I want to say a few words about my family's dog, Zack, who died last week after a short battle with what turned out to be prostate cancer.

Zack was a beautiful dog, tall and lanky with long shiny black fur, and huge, deep, golden eyes. He loved attention, and would bat at you with his foot or nose if you took a break from petting or scratching him for longer than a few seconds. He was a master of inserting himself into tight spaces, using his nose as a boring tool. He was father to eleven gorgeous puppies with his mate Amber. My brother Shaun rescued him as a puppy from squalid conditions, and Steve, our family vet, didn't expect him to survive, let alone grow big enough to mate with Amber. We sure showed him.

Zack was a retriever through and through, and in the absence of freshly killed birds and small mammals to retrieve, he would pick up whatever was lying on the table, counter, or floor. Not to eat or destroy, but just to carry around softly, and offer lovingly to whomever he though would appreciate it the most. I was gifted with many damp washrags in this fashion. He would often carry around multiple items, so one Chirstmas we decided to see how many pieces of wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows we could get him to accept. It was a lot.

Zack is survived by his human parents, Nancy and Dave, human siblings Shaun and Michelann, his canine mate Amber, daughter Ladybug, and niece Bee. He will be missed by all of us.

Happy trails, Zack. May you never run out of soft things to carry around.