Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality. – Emily Dickinson

First, a brief Wembley update.

His blood work and everything came back just swell which means … we don’t know what is causing¬† his seizures. Oh yay. However we are proceeding under the assumption that it might be diet and so we’re going to go ahead with the food change and see what happens.

On another basset note, I was on my twitter account the other day and noticed that someone who had retweeted one of my twats (sorry, this is the terminology they gave us … I just work here) had an avatar that looked like a basset and I was all, “Hey… a basset” in my head because that is how my interior monologue rolls. So I clicked on the picture¬† and and I was all, “Hey, that dog looks familiar” – once again in my head because I still haven’t reached the ‘talking out loud to myself” stage of my life …. yet. Anyway, it actually took me a minute or two to recognize that doggy in the picture (the one with the waggly tail) as the late great and delightfully grumpy Beckham, the memory of whom resides these days in our hearts while the physical part of him sits in a cedar box on my desk.

I had forgotten all about this particular mid-yawn picture, so I thought I’d post it again.

Charming as this may appear, of all of our dogs, Beckham was the best basset we have ever owned for snuggling up to on the couch or on the bed with a warm blanket and a good book.

*****One last thing, because you never want to let a crisis or a basset post to go to waste, Digby is having a fundraiser. You know what to do.