My old dog looks up at me with cloudy eyes, that were once bright and lively.
He still follows me and is my shadow, but he now also paces in our home, when I am still. The tap-tapping of his feet echoing in our quiet home.
He still does his daily routine of running our yard’s perimeter, ensuring everything is in good order, but he no longer hears the birds or other noises. When I call him, he no longer hears me, and I now make motions with my arm so he understands I want him to “come.”
He no longer runs to the door when I come home to greet me happily. Because he doesn’t hear the door opening, or our footsteps coming inside.
He now requires lots of medicines, which are a chore to get him to take, but I get them in him somehow with peanut butter and lunchmeat.
He still sleeps with my husband and I, his little body taking up more room than it seems possible, and making our king-sized bed seem small.
He now needs help jumping on the couch as his arthritis doesn’t allow him to make the jump. And he also needs help getting on our bed too.
Our walks are a little shorter, and he does not pull as much as he used to. A slack leash used to show me that he was not feeling well. Sadly, now it tells me he has become old.
But with all these changes, the one thing that has not changed is our love for him, and his love for us.
So when I see the stories of people leaving their dogs at the vet to be euthanized when they are now a nuisance to take care of, or abandoned at the vet or dropped off somewhere, I am horrified.
Because all the years of devotion and love our little dog has given us is now being reciprocated with love as he is failing. Because it was an honor to have him as a puppy and now an old man.
Because he loves us the same.
As we love him.
Art and Musings by Marnie 
❤️❤️❤️🙏
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