Roscoe isn't done yet. His kidneys are bad and he's got a bladder infection. Best I can hope for is months but he's surprised me before. Dogs his size don't usually live this long.

But I can't live without a dog. So Punkin is waiting in the wings, along and along I'll get out to meet him to be sure we're compatible(and that he doesn't have a morbid fear of wheelchairs)
and if all goes well, as soon as Roscoe is gone I'll begin training Punkin and barely miss a feeding.

The grief is going to be overwhelming. But everything is in place for when the time comes to deal with it.

Good coffee, good weed, and time on my hands...