Worst Birthday Ever

I turned 50 today, not something I was looking forward to, and to sweeten the pot, Dana died last night. I can’t tell if my eyes and nose are watering because I’m crying or because of the rotten cold I’ve got.

My one twinkle of joy is that one of my favorite people in the universe wrote a hauntingly lovely song for me:

How often does something like that happen?

I know that pets die, viruses don’t, and aging is inevitable.

Still, is today a harbinger that my 50’s are going to suck? Or is this just my 40’s going out with a bang instead of a whimper?


13 thoughts on “Worst Birthday Ever”

  1. I vote for bang and wimper. Very sorry for the loss of your dear pet. For what it’s worth, I think you are a very cool 50! Rock that number! I’ll even say Happy Birthday!

    1. Thank you, Agata. I’m not sure Dana ever got the concept of birthdays, but I like the idea. And I like your blog. Keep it up!

    1. Thanks, Frank. I appreciate the sentiment. The way I see it, my B-day was so awful, the rest of the year can only be better. Peace to you, too.

  2. Dear Mouse,

    I was on the way to wishing you a happy birthday when I decided to read the blog. Poor Dana; poor you and Hiroshi. The creatures we love leave terrible holes in our lives when they go. As to fifty being a painful year, some magazine article fronted by Lauren Hutton suggested that fifty is the new thirty. It was certainly that way for me and still is most of the time. Happy birthday from everyone here.



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