She stumbles as she
steps forward, and I remember …
how
she used to race ahead, pulling on her leash, as we walked through the
neighborhood.
We take a slow and
deliberate walk around one single street block, and I remember …
back when we’d hike through wooded trails for hours at a
time; her tail wagging with excitement as she’d sniff and explore every inch of
the path.
Occasionally she’ll
look at the (younger) neighbor dog with interest, and I remember …
how
she loved playing in a group at the dog park: tail wagging, exuberant barking,
tongue hanging out – the thrill of the chase.
She’s fifteen years
old – old for a dog. She’s aged a
lot during the past year: she’s virtually deaf and can’t see as well as she
used to, her back legs lean in because of arthritis, she sleeps a lot more, and
she’s on medication for chronic kidney disease. And last week she decided to
leap off the back deck (a bit of dementia??), resulting in strained muscles and a pronounced limp,
which means I now need to carry her down the deck when she goes outside.
It’s hard watching her
age. I don’t like seeing all her limitations. It’s frustrating dealing with
bathroom accidents and endless panting/pacing because of anxiety. At times I
get angry and then feel guilty for being angry when she can’t help it.
I remember so many
good times:
- camping trips,
hiking at state parks, vacations to Pennsylvania and Florida and Michigan’s
Upper Peninsula (her joy every time we stopped at a Rest Area!)
- visiting my
classroom at school several times each year to meet my second graders. The kids
would run with her outside, paint pictures of her, and write stories about her
visit. She’d also come and keep me company whenever I spent time at school on
Saturdays; I’d be working in the room and she’d be racing down the hallway.
This was the first year she didn’t come to school.
- watching her devour
play with the stuffed animals I’d buy her. She’d carry them around for a few
days and then tear all the stuffing out and wait for a new one to arrive.
- she’d race and
leap and prance around – I wish I had a video of her running.
- trying to teach
her how to play fetch. I’d throw the tennis ball, she’d run after it, then
she’d sit and look at it. (She never learned. Or, maybe she just liked the
chase part.)
- such a
“girly-dog” – She has a bandana for every month and season and would get so
excited when I’d put a new one around her neck!
She’s still a
beautiful dog. Her eyes have lost some of their sparkle, her tail now only wags
when she’s dreaming, and her face is speckled with grey. But the splotches of
brown and black against her white fur, her perky ears, black freckles, and
fluffy tail still remain an outward beauty.
And, inwardly, she has
the same gentle and loving spirit that she had the day we first met at Chow
Hound in Grand Rapids…
when
she leaned quietly against me as I sat on the floor for an hour, trying
to decide whether she was the dog for me. She totally trusted me to take care
of her.
Ever since that day,
she’s waited for me. When we stayed
with my parents and I left for a while, she’d wait at the door until I returned. When we visited the dog park,
she’d play for several minutes and then suddenly look up, trying to find me and
make sure I was still there. When she visited school, she’d play with the kids,
but always kept me in sight.
She still trusts me to
take care of her. And I will,
because I love her and made a commitment to her when I first brought her home
fourteen years ago (tomorrow – Aug. 8).
And on the difficult days I’ll remember the good times. Because, even
though it’s hard watching her struggle in her old age, I’m so thankful for her
and the time we have together.
