It’s been almost two weeks since Leroy died. I’ve begun to feel better. Not about it, of course, but just better. It’s easier for me than Staci, but I didn’t know him as long as she did. Still, it’s certainly not as complete a change as some might have expected.

I haven’t had the heart to post anything since then. It just felt wrong. One day Leroy has died and the next I’m talking about video games. I need to do this a bit more gradually.

The other day I had a sort of a vision. It was like a dream, but I was wide awake and not particularly distracted so it was a bit different than most of my daydreams. In it, I was telling Leroy how we donated his medicine to the hospital so a King Charles¹. He was pleased.

The times I miss Leroy the most, the times it hits me the strongest, are when I spill something on the floor. With very few exceptions anything that ended up on the floor would be swept up by the powerful tongue of Leroy. Even things he didn’t really want. If he didn’t gulp it down he’d chew on it earnestly until naught but a sodden pulp remained.

Now, when I spill I have to clean it up myself.

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¹ King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. They’re notoriously prone to heart defects. One of many downsides to dog breeding. Nice dogs, though.

Some time after two o’clock this morning Leroy returned to his ICU bed from taking a pee outdoors, laid down, and stopped breathing. The last night he spent at home was his birthday on Monday. I hadn’t even taken the time to write anything about his trip to the emergency room and the hospital and the resultant anxiety. Now… well…

The night doctor called us right away. Called my wife, rather. She awoke, picked up the phone, and let out a wail of agony like I’d never heard before. It was beautiful and terrifying. My reaction was more visceral, literally. I took the news straight to the gut. I thought I’d vomit. Stumbling to the bathroom I could feel that greasy eye socket sweat that seems to accompany a really good sick.

We drove through the night to view him. I had a difficult time looking at him with his eyes slack and tongue agog. I needed to keep a bit of distance. I just didn’t like seeing him that way.

His ashes will arrive in a few days. I only glanced at the paperwork from the crematorium, but got the impression that they will arrive with a selection of materials that aim for heartfelt, but land somewhere near crass and aggravating.

Tinúviel is dying. I can see a tiredness in her. She no longer has the spring she once did. Her endurance is fading. Her appearance, while still alluring, is pockmarked with scars, stains, and the remnants of past injuries. She’s fading, and there’s little to be done for her.

Tinúviel, you see, is my PowerBook.

She was born sometime in 2003. October, I believe, though I do not know where I may have gleaned this information. She came into my life in December of that year. She was my first in several ways: my first notebook and my first Mac. Life was never the same after I got her.

Like most Americans of my age my experience with personal computers was primarily relegated to those running operating systems from Redmond. Our first family computer ran DOS, and I can recall joining the indignant crowd turning its collective nose up at the notion of a graphical OS like Windows 3.1. I can even remember parroting the semi-righteous indignation of Windows 3.1 being nothing more than a carbon copy of the Mac OS. Where I came by this idea is a baffling mystery. With the Internet little more than a dream on the horizon it’s difficult to know where such vitriol might have entered my consciousness.

Becoming a convert in 2003 I may have lost the credibility of a lengthy history with the Mac platform, but I endeavored to make up for it with enthusiasm. I have so vigorously promoted the platform that on numerous occasions friends and family have prefaced their inquiries with “I know you’re just going to tell me to get a Mac, but… “ before asking me to do something completely different. My typical response is to stare at the questioner quizzically, throw in a few undiscussed advantages, and then hesitantly agree with whatever decision she has already made. There’s no reasoning with some people. Still, I’d like to claim some credit in the purchase of at least four Macs: two iMacs, one MacBook, and one iBook.

But now Tinúviel is dying. She’s had a few major surgeries. She’s had her logic board replaced once, at considerable cost. Her lower RAM slot no longer functions, an issue covered by an Apple warranty extension on models purchased several months after her. She has a few scratches on the top of her case, and a rather large dent in the lower left corner¹. She’s had beer spilled on her at least twice. She played a crucial role at my wedding. Her “h” key sticks a bit nowadays.

Everything seems like a struggle to her. Her battery conks out in seemingly no time at all. The 1780 photos in my moderately sized iPhoto library cause great grief and spinning beach balls. I look at Flash videos with dread, as I know they’ll be choppy and unsatisfying². Address Book has recently simply refused to open. Most telling though: I haven’t been able to reliably make a backup for some time now. Some file, buried deep in the Library folder, seems to decide not to want to be copied every time I try and run SuperDuper!. It’s vexing and disturbing. What form of entropy is wreaking havoc on seemingly stable files?

I suppose four years is a respectable lifespan for a notebook computer. I might be able to wring a bit more out of her. I worry about the stability of her filesystem though, with all that anguish over the backup. Her replacement is looking better and better all the time. I’d considered going with the MacBook Pro, but the regular ol’ MacBooks are really all the computer I’ll need. The additional features of the MacBook Pro just don’t seem worth the expense to me. I haven’t yet spent that much time with the MacBook, but I have a feeling I’ll miss this PowerBook keyboard. It’s the most enjoyable keyboard I’ve ever used, on any machine.

I won’t be replacing her today, or tomorrow, or the next day. Someday soon though, it’s going to need to happen. I feel like I’ve been saying this for a while now. Last year I was “waiting for Leopard.” This year I considered “waiting for LED screens,” but I haven’t yet read any compelling evidence to their efficacy in the Pro or Air series so that’s starting to seem less compelling. I think in a way I’ve been looking for excuses (aside from the gorilla-in-the-room one of my bank account) in order to put off the inevitable. I honestly think I don’t want to let go.

I love this computer, warts and all.

¹ My cat — now my parent’s cat — got underfoot, tripped me, and sent the PowerBook tumbling to the brick fireplace in my parents house. Other than the dent and a scratch or two there seemed to be no lasting effects.

² YouTube seems to do just fine though. I guess the originals are just the best. And I realize this has little to do with this particular PowerBook, but I only have this one to gauge anything by.