Dr. Mulnix, image from http://mulnixanimalclinic.com/

Yesterday was a sad day. We found out that Dr. Mulnix, our favorite vet, had passed away. He had just announced at the beginning of the summer that he was retiring, and there were plans for an open house and reception in his honor. I was so sad he wouldn’t be treating our dogs anymore, but happy that he’d get to relax a bit — he worked so hard. But now he’s gone. I was surprised by how sad it made me. I burst into tears when I saw the post on Facebook. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t really get it together.

He’s been treating our dogs for 14 years. He calmed us when Obi was so sick the very first weekend he lived with us, our first nervous moments as dog owners. He was the one seven years later who had to tell me Obi had cancer and it was incurable. He most likely saved Sam’s life by identifying and treating something no one else could figure out. Even though we see four different vets at the clinic, he was the first vet we saw each time there was a new puppy. We loved taking our mixed breed dogs to him because the rescues were never really sure, but with all his years of experience, all the thousands of dogs he’d seen, Dr. Mulnix always could guess their mix. He was willing to entertain the silliest questions, to spend time with us over the smallest concerns. He was so patient and kind, and super smart. We trusted him with that which is most precious to us. And now he’s gone.
In an attempt to hit the reset button today, in the early morning before it got too hot, I took a long walk with Eric and the dogs, and then did yoga on the back patio listening to my favorite playlist to practice for the class I’m teaching tomorrow morning. When I finish this post, I’ll take a shower and have a bowl of peach pie oatmeal. I feel grateful for how green it still is even though it’s mid July, for my tiny family, for all the care and kindness Dr. Mulnix showed all four of my dogs and their humans, for the good human he was — all the while hoping that when I go, I will be as fondly remembered, as genuinely missed.