Sad call from Dad.

Perhaps it's my Irish heritage, but whenever the phone rings after about 10 p.m., I figure it's because somebody is dead. I hate it when I'm right.

Dad called to tell my his dog died. He was sitting in the car outside the vet's office and just couldn't drive yet. Polky was a really, really great dog...but it was very hard to hear my dad crying, knowing I needed to keep him on the line a bit longer so he'd be okay to drive. I guess now I know why I wanted to take the phone to bed with me tonight.

UPDATE: Thanks for all the well-wishes. Rowan took the news okay this morning, refusing to hear details until after school because she didn't want to get "all puffy." (sigh) Sometime soon, a sock will be misplaced there will be Tears All Out of Proportion with a lost sock.

( Cut for late-night puppy sappiness. A good red wine would be great right now. )