I looked at my calendar today and noticed an anniversary coming up next Tuesday. January 29, 1998 – ten years to the day Ranger died.
Ranger the Valiant Warrior, my German shepherd pal of 12 years and a bit. Puppy who slept on my bed, big bony boy who played fetch and tug and chase, magnificent friend whose companionship I wore like a second skin for more than a decade. He rode with me in my truck, went on hikes with me, waited avidly outside whatever building I was inside, left the house and came into town looking for me whenever I was away too long.
Ten years gone.
I’m over it. Sure. The misty eyes brought about by noticing that date on the calendar are just silly. I mean, who pines over a DOG??
Fred Thompson out — good. I think.
This was a good day. Ate light, had a really good workout at the gym, and then got to visit with my good friend 
I had the obligatory withdrawal headache last night. I’d been waiting for it. Anybody who’s ever gone cold turkey on sugar or coffee (in my case, both) probably knows about it. It’s this dull pain that just hangs on for hours, a headache that seems to extend down into the back of your neck. You can’t even lie on a pillow comfortably, but the only hope of getting rid of it is to sleep it off. Which I did, finally.
