I took my dog out in the snowstorm we had today. Under any other circumstances that would be no big
deal. But, Rocky has cancer, and
degenerative neuropathy. The
prognosis is not good. He probably
has six more months to live. I wanted him to enjoy one more run. One more roll. One more lick of the crisp white
snow. As we were trudging up the
hill we saw a hawk swoop down and pluck a bright red cardinal from the ground
and fly off. The ebb and flow of nature?
Or harbinger of things to come?
Rocky has shown remarkable courage throughout his
ordeal. Two surgeries, weekly
blood tests, chemotherapy, and routine visits. His motto must be, “Never complain, never explain,” because he has never so
much as whimpered during this misery. When I come home from work he still greets me at the door
flashing a grin and wagging his tail.
Even when he is logy from the chemo he still nuzzles me for a pat on the
head or a good knuckle in the ear.
I realize I will still be paying
the enormous debt I incurred long after he passes. In the past eighteen months he has seen a surgeon, an oncologist,
a neurologist, two general practitioners as well as assorted vet techs. I spent the better part of a semester
of college on his treatments and medicine. But I cheerily do it because nothing can come close to the
bond I have with this dog. He is
my touchstone to lower blood
pressure; my living, breathing, eating, pooping, teddy bear, as well the
consummate nap buddy.
Animals have the luxury of not
dwelling on their mortality.
Unfortunately we as humans do.
I try to be positive and hope for the best. I call the vet if he so much as doesn’t eat a favorite
treat. I realize that sooner or later he is going to give out. I dread the day
that it happens, but the greatest gift of love that I can give him is to let
him go.
