An end to a night where my best friend had to be carried down the steps, outside, to relieve herself. She is very disciplined. Last night was good though. I only had to wake with her once, and carry her once. Her smile is fading, her back feet drag along the floor when she walks, and her spark is gone. At least until her favorite food is about to be served. She almost dances then.
It's not easy for me to see her go down hill. She's almost 16 and maybe even older. She came to me after two heartless, asinine "owners" abused her. But that's another story and it's sad; I won't go there. It's sad enough to see her like this. Although I don't see her in pain, I don't think she's in pain other than maybe some arthritis.
As my husband gets ready to take the other two on their daily walk up the small mountain across the way, they are eager and waiting. She walks around looking at him every now and then seeming a little confused. She stands still and just looks into the air. I don't even know how well she sees now. I do know she really can't hear.
I'm writing this just to let off some of the sadness I feel about my friend; about how death slowly takes us at times.
. I guess it's better than taking us suddenly.
My girl was there for me when all others were busy, not available, or just plain gone. She was there looking at me with her black eyes, her white self, by my side. But always looking at me.
As the other two run downstairs with my husband, she stands at the top of the steps contemplating whether she'll go down the very long, steep steps, and do what she had done for a couple years before. Instead, she turns, comes back to the base of my bed and stands, looking nowhere . I remember when she used to run like the wind and leap like a Gazelle.
In a few minutes I'll start my day. The good news is that I'll feed her plenty of gourmet food and that will make her happy, which will turn to contentment. At least I'm hoping.
This quote from CS Lewis is perfect for why I continue to love, although, in this life, the loves always have an end:
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it careful round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable . . . The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers . . . of love is Hell. (C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves)”
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