Today was a busy day. It was Ginger’s birthday. Before we celebrated her turning eight, I had to stop at my local CVS to get my second shingles shot. I wasn’t looking forward to that shot. The first one was sore for days. I have had loads of shots over my life, but I can’t recall any injection that was as sore as that shingles shot for several days.

I took Ginger with me to get the shot. I told her that would be on the arm that I have a tattoo of the two of us. I left her in the car while I went to the pharmacy.

Sue, the pharmacist, has given me both the first and second shingles shots.

Eric took the photos.

Carrie would call the EMTs if necessary.

I didn’t need any help from EMTs and could carry on. So, I cast my vote in Winfield near the CVS pharmacy. I voted straight Democratic in my precinct. I can’t name more than a handful of neighbors that will vote for Harris. Donald the Dumb is a big deal in Winfield and the State of Indiana.

After casting the ballot, I got into the car and told Ginger, “It’s party time.” When we got home, Ginger rushed down to my office and waited for me to celebrate her birthday.

Ginger can’t eat banana bread, but she loves dental chews. I give her chewies after meals, during the day, and before bedtime.

Ginger’s first eight years are divided into two sections: pre-medical problems and major medical issues. Medical issues weren't an issue during the first part of her life. However, she has been hospitalized three times, and two were life-threatening in the past four years.

The last four years have been spent getting sick for several months and recovering. When I noticed she was feeling better, she got sick again. The cyclical dynamic often has to do with inflammatory bowel disease. However, Ginger is also allergic to something. That is why I put an old sock on her left front leg. She licks where it itches, which results in getting that area infected. So, a small red area spread up and down her leg due to licking. When Ginger goes to bed, I put a muzzle on her. If I don’t, she chews the wrappings around the sock. It doesn’t take long before she completely removes the sock and licks her leg again.

Ginger and I are in a canine catch-22. She is lucky that she is still alive. Ginger is 55 in dog years, and she faces a major medical issue plus allergies. It seems unfair, and she doesn’t deserve to suffer. Nevertheless, Randy Pausch warned us in his Last Lecture, “We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.”

Ginger, you, and I need to think about playing our hands rather than complaining about the unfair cards we have been dealt. Ginger and I have both done the dance with death twice. That isn’t easy, trust me. However, dancing with death can be a learning experience for all of us.

We all know that we are finite. Our dogs and cats also are. There is a strange blessing to the curse of coming close to death. If you haven’t done the dance, you know at an intellectual level that your clock is ticking. Lead death on the dancefloor of life, and you realize that reality in your gut. Gone is the intellectual jargon.

Doing the dance teaches us to enjoy the now because someday, you won’t have any more nows in your life. After Ginger enjoyed her birthday party, I sat down at my computer. Ginger wanted to take a nap. As a sign of reciprocal love, she always wants to touch me when she sleeps. This photo is an example. Ginger is in dreamland, knowing that I’m there. The same is true when we go to bed. She needs to know that I am there.