Earlier today, I met a friend at the Deluxe Town Diner, where we spent a delightful couple of hours having lunch and catching up. When I entered the restaurant, white clouds scudded across a blue sky. By the time I emerged, the sky had turned gray and threatening. It was a beautiful day, then it wasn't.
Last Friday, I was about to cook dinner and enjoy a leisurely start to my weekend. The only thing on my mind was what DVD I felt like watching that evening. Then E. discovered that the hot water heater was leaking and the basement was rapidly flooding. We spent the next several hours attempting to mitigate the damage. It was an uneventful evening, then it wasn't.
I've been patiently switching Cosmo from one anti-seizure medication to another. The first medicine couldn't be stopped cold turkey, so I added the second medicine for several weeks, then gradually began weaning him off the first. After the initial dose reduction, all went well. Cosmo acted like a healthy dog, with plenty of pep and enthusiasm. I felt optimistic about the prospects for continuing the weaning process. After two weeks, following the vet's instructions, I lowered the dose again. Two days later, Cosmo had a seizure. Then another. And another. Cosmo was seizure-free, then he wasn't.
The east coast of South Florida boasts beaches with soft white sand and bright blue water of striking clarity. During walks along Biscayne Bay, I've seen manatees, dolphins, sting rays, barracuda, brown pelicans, egrets, herons, gulls, and other magnificent wild creatures. The South Florida coastal waters still provide a healthy habitat for sea creatures and birds. But, if the oil that's currently suffocating the Gulf of Mexico gets picked up by the loop current, predictions are that it will be carried around the southern tip of Florida and along the east coast. For now, that coast is pristine . . .